


A Compilation of Prompts

by katemiller



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Johnlock bromance, Mollcroft, Multi, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 21,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1497517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katemiller/pseuds/katemiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a set of prompts that I received from my tumblr lovelies. There will probably be several ships and relationships. These in no away go in any order or relate to each other. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Should I Marry Him?

This is a prompt from [steffy2106](http://steffy2106.tumblr.com/) : i am allowing myself to prompt you for some Sherlolly goodness. I watched a recent Grey's Anatomy and Jackson just intervened during the wedding of the woman he loved. Could you write a Sherlolly where Sherlock actually interrupt Molly's wedding?

* * *

 

"Molly asked me to bring these back." John said as he walked into the flat at Baker Street holding a bag of clothes. Sherlock didn’t reply. He sat in his chair frantically searching for a new case. “I’ll just leave them here.” He tossed them on the couch and closed the door. “Sooo, today’s the day.” 

Sherlock NEEDED a new case and he knewLestrade wouldn’t be bringing him one today; he would be busy getting drunk at the open bar.  

"Are you going?" John sighed, sinking down into his old chair. 

"Nope." Sherlock replied without taking his eyes off his phone. 

"But I heard her personally ask you." 

"I said if I wasn’t busy. I’m busy." 

"You aren’t doing anything!" John threw his hands in the air. 

"I just found myself a new case." He smiled triumphantly. "I really must get started on it tonight." Sherlock pushed himself out of his chair and went to grab the tea Mrs. Hudson had brought to him. He took a sip and frowned. "This is cold."

"When did she bring it to you?" 

"The usually time." Sherlock dumped the cup in the sink.

"You realize it’s almost one." John looked over his shoulder at Sherlock who furrowed his brow at the cup. "Want to grab a bite?" 

"No." Sherlock started messing with an experiment he had abandoned last night. John sighed again and got up, knowing when he was being dismissed. Before he left he went to Sherlock’s room. Sherlock could hear him messing with something in his closet. He knew John was setting him out clothes to wear. 

"Then I better be home to Mary." John said as he headed towards the door. "Sherlock, please be there today."  

* * *

 

Three weeks earlier: 

Sherlock sat plucking at the strings on his violin because he was too lazy to get up and grab the bow that was five feet away. He stopped when he heard heavy, rushed footfalls on the stairway. The door flung open and there stood a soaking wet Molly Hooper. 

"Molly?" He sat down his violin and looked at her. 

"Could I have some dry clothes or a towel?" She asked as she closed the door. He nodded once and disappeared to get the items she had asked for. 

Her presence at 221B had become a normal occurrence since his return. He had asked her over to help with experiments and she would bring him what body parts she could. They both seemed to enjoy their random times together and John found Sherlock was in a much more agreeable mood after his afternoons with Miss Hooper. 

But this afternoon, Molly was supposed to be elsewhere. In fact she had a dress fitting at 4 and then dinner with Tom afterwards. Sherlock had asked for her help, but she had politely declined. 

"Thank you." She took the towel and dry clothes out of Sherlock’s hands and excused herself to the bathroom. 

Sherlock sat back down and picked up his violin, trying to figure out why Molly would be there. When she finally emerged, Sherlock had to suppress a smile that he surprised himself with. 

She was drying her hair with the towel dressed in his clothes. His shirt and pants were both too big for her but she had the strings of the pants tied tight and the shirt hung slightly off of her one shoulder. Something about this caused Sherlock to keep steeling glances at her bare collar bone. 

"If it’s okay, I’m going to make some tea." Sherlock nodded at her once and started plucking again. Molly walked over and picked up the bow and handed it to him absentmindedly. Sherlock took it and started playing while she made tea.

She handed him a cup and sat down in John’s chair, sipping on her own. She stared at a spot on the floor, not talking. 

"What am I to you?" She finally asked. 

"My pathologist." He responded quickly.

"Yours?" She furrowed her brow. 

"A friend." He added, realizing besides John, he had never called anyone else that out loud.

"Should I marry Tom?"

"Molly?" 

"I mean, I love him and genuinely care for him. But I’m not  _in love_  with him. Is that fair to him?”

"Why are you asking me?" He had no clue where Molly was going and usually he did.

"Because I think you’re in love with me." He stared at her, not knowing how to respond. "Should I marry Tom?" she asked again. 

"I can’t be what you want." He finally responded. "Yes. You should marry Tom." 

She didn’t say anything, just sipped on her tea. When she was finished with her tea, she took her cup to the kitchen and placed it in the already full sink. She walked back over to Sherlock and leaned down, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

She gathered her wet clothes and purse. As she was going for the door, it opened and John walked in. 

"Molly?" John looked her up and down. 

"John." She smiled once at him and turned to Sherlock. "Please be there, at the wedding." Then she left. 

"Don’t ask." Sherlock told John after Molly was out of earshot.  

* * *

 

Present: 

After John left, Sherlock abandoned the experiment again and fell down on the couch face first. He hadn’t really found a case, all had been under a four and he had solved half of them by just reading the emails. 

 _Please be there._ Molly and John’s words echoed in his head. He tried to ignore it. He decided a walkthrough of his mind palace would be good, deleting the unnecessary and rearranging the import information. 

But everywhere he turned, there was Molly. At the morgue in her lab coat. At home wrapped in a blank on her couch. Standing in his kitchen in his clothes. Everywhere. 

"Fine!" He shouted. He stood up and went to his room throwing on the clothes John had put out for him. He checked his watch, it was already 2:40 and the wedding was at 3, he was just barely going to make it. 

 

The cabbie he got was a complete idiot and got them lost, twice. By the time Sherlock got to the church it was already 3:10 and he had half a mind to just turn around and go home. Or going to the nearest bar and getting really drunk. He opted for staying and using the open bar to get him drunk, hoping to quiet Molly’s voice, _I think you’re in love with me_. 

He busted through the church doors. There stood Molly at the end of the isle already. Her dress was simple, but made her look beautiful, granted he preferred her in his clothes. Molly stared at him in sock, but gave him a small smile and pointed to the back row. Sherlock then realized how he must look and hated everyone’s eyes on him. He quickly sat, ignoring John and Mary’s stares.  

The pastor continued speaking. Sherlock wasn’t paying attention to what was going on. He kept clenching and unclenching his hands. 

_I think you’re in love with me._

_“_ No.” He whispered to himself. 

 _I think you’re in love with me_. 

"No!" He whispered more forcefully and the people in front of him shot him annoyed looks. 

_I think you’re in love with me…I think you’re in love with me._

"No!" He said loud enough for the people two rows in front of him to hear. The women in front of him ‘shh-ed' him.  

 _I think you’re in love with me._  

Sherlock made to stand up, but sat back down before anyone noticed. 

 _I think you’re in love with me._  

He stood with shaking hands and stepped into the isle. 

 _I think you’re in love with me._  

Molly noticed and turned her head towards Sherlock with a question in her eyes. 

 _I think you’re in love with me._  

 _“_ Molly.” The entire church’s eyes were on Sherlock again. He took a deep breath. 

 _I think you’re in love with me._  

"I…you asked me if you should marry Tom." He walked down the aisle toward her, never taking his eyes off hers. He half expected her cheeks to flush at the breaking news to Tom, but she looked calm as ever. "You said you thought I was in love with you and asked if you should marry Tom." He stood directly in front of her. "I have an answer for you." 

"And?" She asked, seeming to have forgotten the audience they had. 

"You shouldn’t marry Tom." He reached out and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. He kissed her hard as the rest of the people around him let out gasps of surprise. 

"He waits till now!" He heard John say and chuckled against Molly’s lips. He slowly released his hold on Molly. "I think that I’m in love with you too." 

"Well that’s nice." Tom said. Molly stepped back from Sherlock with the intention to try and explain, but Tom reeled back and punched Sherlock in the eye. He straightened his jacket and held out his hand to Molly. "Ring?" Molly quickly pulled it off her finger and handed it over. Tom walked quickly from the church, with his family hurrying after him. 

* * *

 

"You could have moved." Molly said as she put two stiches in just above his cheek bone. 

"What?" He smirked, knowing what she meant. 

"You are much faster than him, you knew it was coming. Why didn’t you move?" She took off her gloves and dumped them in the bin. 

"I figured he at least deserved to get a punch in." Sherlock shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I had just stolen his bride." Molly smiled at him and nestled her head under his chin. 

They were back at Baker Street. Molly was dressed in the same clothes that she had borrowed three week previous; her wedding dress in the bins outside. 


	2. Who is She?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt from an anon asking for romantic Molcroft

“Who was she?” Molly felt her face heating from the insecurity rising in her.

“Colleague.” Mycroft didn’t even take his eyes off of his paperwork.

“Oh.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She stared around his office, hoping to distract herself enough. It didn’t work. “Do you work close with her?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, not really listening to her. Molly nodded even though he still wasn’t looking.

“She seems nice.” She added, folding her hands in her lap.

“Mhm.” He scribbled something in the folder.

“What is her – ”

“Molly.” He finally looked up at her. “She is just a woman I work with.”

“I know. I know.” She nodded her head up and down several times.

“Almost done.” He turned his attention back to his papers. She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and sent off some replies to unanswered texts. She tapped her foot repeatedly as she leaned back in the chair, stretching her legs out on front of her.

“Soo, what’s her n – ”

“MOLLY.” He said more forceful this time. “I have one personal attachment.” She pointed to herself and he nodded. “Yes.”

“I just, she is so pretty and blonde and gorgeous!” Molly stared at the back of the wooden door as if she could see the other woman through it.

“I don’t see her that way.” He was standing right next to her. He reached down and took her hand in his, pulling her to her feet. “I simply see a person I work with.”

“Okay.” She whispered as he kissed her cheek. “Are you ready yet?”

“Not really.” He admitted, staring at his desk.

“Mycroft Holmes, you take me out to lunch and make me forget about that  _colleague_ of yours or so help me you will have a very cold bed tonight.”

“Okay….okay.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I will call for the car to come around.”

“Thank you.” She stood with her hands on her hips in triumph.

“Sometimes I think I should have just gotten a  _real goldfish_.” He smirked at her as he grabbed the umbrella they would undoubtedly be needing.

“Yes, but real fish don’t cuddle with you.”

“I do like you in my bed, Miss Hooper.” He offered her his arm and she looped hers through.

“I do so like being there.” She grabbed a hold of his face and planted one on the middle of his mouth. “They also wouldn’t be able to do that.” Mycroft felt himself blushing as Molly wiped off some of her gloss from his upper lip.


	3. The Mentalist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from an anon: Can I send a sherlolly prompt where Sherlock and Molly are watching tv and they realise that there is a show very similar to Sherlocks life called The Mentalist

 

“SHERLOCK!” Molly’s voice floated through the closed door and was muddled with her heavy, fast footfalls on the stairs. Sherlock sighed and walked over, opening the door just as Molly came to the top of the landing. “Sherlock!” She smiled and rushed past him and into the flat. She hurried over to the corner of the living room and kneeled in front of a pile of papers (and whatever else Sherlock had thrown there). Molly pushed away all the rubble and revealed Sherlock’s telly.

“Oh. I forgot that was there.” Sherlock nodded and went back to the kitchen. He had an experiment over a small flame and didn’t want another accident. The last time Mrs. Hudson had stopped bringing him his morning tea for a week – he quite liked his morning tea.

Molly hummed her response to him and finished clearing away the papers. She turned on the telly and found what she was looking for.

“Sherlock come here!” Molly shed her outer jacket and moved to Sherlock’s chair. There was a slight chill in the air outside but Sherlock had managed to heat his flat to a ridiculous temp and Molly could already feel the sweat gathering on the small of her back.

“Busy.” He replied shortly, trying to take the temp of the solution he was working with.

“But I have found _you_!” She bounced happily on the edge of the seat.

“I am _bu_ – what do you mean?” He pinched his eyebrows together and looked at her. Her smile was so wide it looked like it almost hurt.

“This show!” She pointed to the telly.

“Molly, I am not in the mood to watch another one of your silly dramas.” He went back to his solution, moving it off of the flame and turning the heat off.

“This is not a _silly drama_!” She flared her nostrils in anger. “And besides, I noticed that you were enjoying the last – ”

“I told you if you brought that up I would never watch the telly with you again.” His face was flushed – something only Molly had become accustomed to. She giggled and held up her hands in surrender.

“Okay. Okay.” She giggled again. “But really, you have to come see this.” He looked at her and back at his experiment. It really was not turning out right and he needed to start again. He was sure he had overheated it with Molly’s interruption taking his attention. He turned on the water and dumped the solution in the sink – it should be fine. He took off his goggles and made his way into the living room.

“That is supposed to be _my_ chair.” He gave her a look as he settled down into John’s old chair.

“Shh!” She hushed him and turned up the volume.

“I still don’t know what you mean by you found _me_.” He whispered to her.

“Jane, he is you!” Molly’s eyes never left the scene. “Just watch.”

Sherlock crossed his arms and slumped back in the much less comfortable chair and heaved a grumpy sigh. He didn’t move for the next 45 minutes. As soon as the show was over, Molly reached over and turned off the telly.

“See!?!?” Molly’s big brown eyes shined proudly. Sherlock wore an unamused expression and pushed himself out of the chair.

“No. I don’t.” He turned back to the kitchen, already planning his next experiment.

“Sherlock!” Molly chastised. “Patrick Jane is you!” She got up and followed him into the kitchen. “Granted, I think he has better people skills that you do, but other than that.”

“Better people skills? I can read a person better than he can!” Sherlock was insulted. Molly rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist before he could grab any of the equipment he needed. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his around her.

“This is why Patrick has better people skills than you do.” He opened his mouth to say something but she slid her hand over his mouth, shutting him up. “He understands human nature better than you do.” Sherlock raised his eye brows in agreement. “But other than that, you two are the same; handsome consulting detectives who bug the police and read people as if you can actually read their minds.” Molly dropped her hand away from his mouth and settled it back around his waist.

“You think he’s handsome?” Sherlock asked with a perplexed look on his face.

“That’s what you took away from all that?” She giggled and stretched up placing a small kiss on his cheek.

 


	4. Now or Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from an anon: Prompt! Married!Molly wants to have a baby. And Sherlock doesn't think he is ready to have children. However what he doesn't know is that Molly's clock is ticking relatively fast. And it's either now or never.

Sherlock stared at his wife with a pained expression on his face. Molly sat curled up on the end of the couch looking through a magazine. But not just any magazine, a magazine filled with children’s clothes. He wasn’t sure how it ended up in their mail, but all he knew was that he wished it hadn’t.

“Molly?” Sherlock asked, picking up her book from the kitchen table.

“Mhm?” She didn’t look up. He thrust the book in her face, in between her eyes and the magazine. “Why is my book in my face?” She looked up, irritated at him.

“You haven’t finished it.” He let the book go and it dropped down in her lap, crinkling the magazine. He shrugged as he stared down at Molly. He walked over and picked up a nicotine patch from the ledge above the fire place and slapped it on his forearm.

“No. I haven’t.” Molly picked up her book and dropped it to the floor with a loud thump. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at the book on the floor. He picked up another patch and smoothed it on his arm. He flexed his hand and waited for the patches to take effect, breathing in deeply. “Two patches?” Molly asked, bored.

“Yes. Two patches.” He flexed his hand again and sat down in his chair. Molly rolled her eyes and dropped the magazine down on top of the book. She got up and walked over, staring down at him. “Yes?” He looked up at her as he rubbed the second patch. She leaned down and moved his arms out of the way and settled down into his lap.

“The magazine bothers you.”

“No.”

“It wasn’t a question.” She nuzzled her nose against his cheek. He slid his gaze sideways, trying to look at her. “It bothers you.”

“Yes.” He flexed his hand again. Molly sat with her head cradled in the hollow of his neck. Neither of them said anything for a while.

“Do kids scare you?” She finally asked.

“No.” He answered with a smile. “Responsibility. Responsibility scares me.”

“Oh.” Molly lifted her head, meeting his gaze.

“Kids mean responsibility. I don’t like responsibility. I like to run off when a case hits, no matter the time, day or night. And I come home when it suits me.”

“Or when I yell at you.” Molly added.

“Yes. That too.” He gave her a half smile.

“So….”

“You want to know if I want kids.” Molly nodded silently. “I do not object to procreating with you.” He smirked, making her smile brightly. “Just…not now.”

“Okay.” She kissed him hard and went back over to the couch and picked up her book, pushing the magazine to the side.

* * *

 

“Mrs. Holmes.” Molly’s head snapped up at her name. “I have your test results.” Her doctor closed the door softly and sat down.

“What’s wrong?” Molly knew when a doctor was psyching themselves up to deliver bad news.

“Your test results, well, Mrs. Holmes.”

“Amelia.” Molly interrupted her. “We have known each other for years, stop with the pleasantries.” Amelia dropped Molly’s file on the counter and sighed.

“Molly, if you want kids you need to try now.”

* * *

 

“MOLLY!” Sherlock exploded as soon as she had one foot in the door.

“Hi.” She smiled weakly. Sherlock grabbed her shoulders and kissed her on the mouth.

“Lestrade just texted, new case, two bodies!” He flung his coat on dramatically.

“Oh, well – ”

“I’ll be home late tonight, probably early morning.” He kissed her again and fled down the stairs. “Love you!” He called as an afterthought.

* * *

 Molly heard the door close and Sherlock’s footsteps in the living room. She looked over at the clock on her night stand. It was 3am. The door to their bedroom squeaked open.

“Hi.” Molly rolled over and looked at her husband. His hair was crazy and a satisfied smile sat on his lips.

“Solved.” He whispered as he slipped out of his clothes. He climbed under the covers and pulled Molly to him, settling her back against his front, and intertwined his frozen feet with her toasty ones. He stretched his arm out that was under Molly’s head and laid it on Molly’s pillow. His fingertips brushed against wet fabric. Molly had been crying. He turned her over in his arms and brushed the tears away from her face. “What’s wrong?” He asked softly.

Molly didn’t say anything, trying to figure out the words she wanted to use.

“You had your doctor’s appointment today.” His body tensed up. “What’s wrong? Is it terminal? We will get whatever doctor you need!” His voice was raising and Molly had never seen him so worked up. “I should have been paying more attention when you came home. I”

“Sherlock! Sherlock!” He stopped babbling and looked at her. “I’m fine. I’m healthy.”

“Oh. Good.” His body relaxed and he kissed her on the head. “What’s wrong?” He asked again. Molly felt awful putting this on him. It had only been a few weeks before he was telling her he wasn’t ready for kids.

“My test results weren’t great.” She swallowed hard. “If I am going to have kids we have to have them now.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. They laid in silence as Sherlock processed the information. It was a good five minutes before he said anything.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” She was surprised and wasn’t sure if he meant it.

“Yes. Okay.” He said again. Molly couldn’t believe her husband.

“But only two weeks ago you were saying you weren’t ready for kids.”

“Well, your body is telling me to stop being selfish.” He leaned down and kissed her neck. “So, shall we try procreating then, my dear Molly?”

“Mhm, yes please.” She eyed him hungrily. 


	5. You Love Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anon: A Sherlolly Promt: Sherlock thinking he does not like Molly then discovering after some time that he can't be without her?

Sherlock had just received a text from Lestrade begging him to come down to the morgue to examine a new body.

“JOHN! MARY! SPAWN!” Sherlock shouted as he dashed about in John and Mary’s kitchen.

“You have to stop calling her spawn!” Mary yelled at him from her seat on the couch.

“What is it?” John chocked down a chuckle, getting up to see what Sherlock was on about this time.

“Lestrade has something for us at the morgue!” Sherlock’s eyes were big with excitement.

“I’m sure Molly is going to be _delighted_ to see us.” John grabbed his jacket and put it on. Sherlock stopped moving and stared at him, he was finally getting the hang of John’s sarcasm.

“What do you mean by that?” Sherlock looked cross.

“I just mean that last time you and Molly talked you all but told her to stop loving you.” John shrugged his shoulders. “She would be better off, but still, you didn’t need to go about it the way you did.”

“You were the one who told me to be honest.” Sherlock furrowed his brow.

“Yes, I meant be honest with yourself you clot. You lov – ” John stopped talking and just shook his head. “Come on, let’s go.” John walked back to Mary and kissed her. “I’ll be home later, love you.”

“Love you too.” She patted his cheek. “Don’t kill my husband.” She pointed to Sherlock.

“Love you too spawn.” John kissed his daughter’s head as she slept in Mary’s arm.

“Never mind on that last order Sherlock.”

* * *

 

“You were going to say something else.” Sherlock prompted as they rode in the cab.

“What?” John hadn’t been paying attention.

“You were going to say something else to me, before we left. So, say it.” Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You love her.”

“Sentiment is a” Sherlock started.

“Crapshoot found in the losing person or some other shit.” John cut him off, giving him an exasperated look. “You love her and you can’t see it because you have pushed all of your emotions down in that dark soul of yours and decided that they are some sort of drawback in life. Well, they aren’t.”  

Sherlock stared at John, mouth gaping wide. He felt like John had single handedly broken his mind; sensory overload in some sense. Sherlock tried to process everything that John had said but found himself being shoved out of the back of the cab by John. His brain didn’t catch up with the words John was saying until they were almost to the morgue.

“You look like shit!” John grabbed hold of his arm, stopping him from running into a nurse. “Pull yourself together!”

Sherlock didn’t respond, just stared at him with a blank expression on his face.

“I said!” John reached out his arm and slapped Sherlock hard across the face. “Pull yourself together!” Sherlock took a step back and shook his head, the left side of his face already turning red. He took a deep breath, ruffled his hair, and straightened his coat.

“Right.” He nodded his thanks to John and pushed the door to the morgue open. He walked in and his eyes found Molly right away. She was smiling brightly and laughing at something. How could a woman who was a pathologist, who did autopsies on dead bodies for a living, always be in a good mood?

“…then I said to him – ” Lestrade followed Molly’s new line of sight over to Sherlock. “Finally! Where the hell have you two been?”

“Traffic.” John grumbled.

“I need you to look over the body and then I have a man back at the yard that I need you to talk to. I can’t hold the man for much longer, so I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“It really seems like it.” Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

“What?” John asked, not believing what he had just barely heard come out of Sherlock’s mouth.

“Nothing.” He turned to Molly. She still wore a small smile, though forced. He could tell she was uncomfortable seeing him, he had been…. _mean_ (as John had said) to her after all. “Body?” He asked, trying to keep his tone even. She nodded once and folded back the sheet.

Sherlock got to work at once, doing his best to block out the other voices. It took him longer than usually to examine the body, while half of his brain was committed to the task at hand, the other half was wrestling with John’s words.

“So, Molly, what – ”

“Scotland Yard.” Sherlock snapped at Lestrade, who stopped talking to Molly and looked at him. “Take John with you. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Sherlock…” John stopped when he saw the intense look Sherlock was giving him. “Right. Come on Greg. Bye Molly, and thank you.”

“Yea, thank you.” Lestrade gave her a half smile and retreated from the morgue with John.

Molly busied herself with some paperwork as Sherlock gave the body another once over.

“Molly.” He turned to face her.

“Yes?” She asked quietly.

“John thinks I burry my emotions.” He blurted.

“Oh.” Was all she said.

“I’m sorry. I am not sure why I said that.” What was wrong with him?

“Did you just say, ‘sorry’?” She looked at him in amazement.

“I did.” He grasped his hands behind his back.

“Although, that wasn’t really something that needed an apology.” She smirked and walked over to the body, covering it back up with the sheet. She pushed the cart back to its spot and closed it up. She thought Sherlock would have made his exist by then, but he was still standing there. “Is there something I can help you with?” She asked almost exasperated.

“Am I bugging you?” He titled his head at her.

“No, yes…kind of.” She admitted.

“Honesty.” He watched as her cheeks flushed.

“Yes.” She grabbed the paperwork and started to walk away from him.

“Do you love me?” Sherlock couldn’t stop himself; the words were out of his mouth before his brain would stop him. Molly stopped in her tracks and turned back to him. “I don’t know why I asked you that!”

“Yes. And I don’t know why.” She answered him anyways.

“John said you did and I figured as much.”

“Then why are you asking?” She walked back over to him and folded her arms across her chest. “If you already knew?”

He looked down at her and abandoned all of his inhibitions; he pulled her face to his and he kissed her. Molly didn’t hold herself back; she dropped the paperwork, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. Sherlock wrapped his free arm around her waist securing her in place.

He pulled back and stared at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but Molly kissed him again.

“After you help Scotland Yard, come over.” Molly smiled brightly at him, not forced at all. Sherlock nodded. He released his hold on Molly and disappeared from the morgue, only realizing once he was outside and the rain was hitting his face that he was smiling too. 


	6. The Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anon: Some more Mollcroft begging with a cherry (or a sherlock) on top!! Prompt? What about Mycroft asking Molly to marry him :P pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssseeeeeeee

Everyone had been slightly surprised when Molly and Mycroft’s relationship was made public. Molly was always so cheery and he was always a bit…not. She made bad jokes and he…never joked. She enjoyed life and he tended to be…dull. So when rumors of Anthea bringing box upon box from the finest jewelry stores in London to Mycroft’s office, no one believed them, especially Molly herself.

“Mycroft?” Molly’s voice floated lightly through his house. He had given her a key four months prior and only three months after starting their relationship. “Mycroft?” She called again but was still met with silence. She smiled smugly to herself as she set her things on the couch and then made her way to his home office.

She opened the door to the office very slowly; when it squeaked she jumped.[[MORE]]

“He’s not here!” She reminded herself and then stopped in her tracks when she saw a small black box sitting in the middle of his desk with one red rose and one white rose behind it.

“You know roses, don’t you Molly?” His voice surprised her. She nodded yes. He walked around her and sat down in his chair, facing her. “A single red signifies?”

“Love.” She said quietly.

“What does white signifies?” He folded his hands in his lap.

“I am worthy of you.” She whispered.

“Molly,” He leaned forward and placed his hand on top of the small box. “What do two roses being” he opened the box and sat back, “entwined together mean?”

“Marry me.” Her voice was barely audible. She stared at the ring in complete disbelief. “But, they had just been rumors.”

“Yes, well, most rumors come from a form of the truth. These just happened to be the truth.” He folded his hands again.

“It – it’s only been seven months.” She stammered.

“Yes.” He agreed simply.

“You hate the idea of marriage.” She wrinkled her nose.

“You don’t.” He looked as if he was tiring of the conversation.

“But…but…I’m a goldfish!” She cried at him, confused. He sighed and gave her a small smile.

“My bowl is only big enough for one goldfish and I would rather it be you.” He stood up and took the roses with him. “I am worthy of you.” He handed her the white rose. “I love you.” He handed her the red one. “Molly Hooper, will you marry me?” He asked as he twisted the stems together in her hands.

“Yes!” The worry on her face vanished and was replaced with a giant grin. “Yes of course I’ll marry you!” She kissed him a dozen times and threw her arms around his neck.

“Good.” He said as he hugged her back.

“Can I put on the ring now?” She pointed to the box and bounced. He gave her a sideways grin and grabbed the box. He pulled the ring out and slipped it on her finger. She smiled down at it letting the light bounce of it. “It’s beautiful!”  

“I guess this settles the discussion of moving in together?” He asked as he led her out to the living room.

“I guess this does.” She said as she pulled him down on the couch next to her. She snuggled up to his side and continued to study her ring.

“Now, I think we need to discuss Toby.” She gave him a pointed look. “Well, maybe not.”


	7. New York for a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt from icecat62: Sherlock has some cases lined up in America and wants to ask Molly to take time off and come with him. They aren't together at this point and he feels like this would be a way to jump start a relationship away from their respective London friends (and Mycroft's cameras). :)

“Molly?” Sherlock cleared his throat as he stepped into the lab. She sat at the bench and looked up from the microscope she had just been using.

“Hello Sherlock!” Her smile faded when she noticed his ‘I am going to ask you for something’ face. “I don’t have any extra parts right now.” She sighed as she pulled her hair back into a pony tail.

“Not looking for parts, just you.” He clasped his hands behind his back and stared at her from under his curls, moving closer to her.

“Oh…well you found me!” She blushed slightly as a silence settle between the two. “What did you need me for?”

“I’m going to America for a few weeks. Some cases lined up.” He fiddled with the nobs on the microscope Molly had just abandoned. She stared down at his hand.

“Lestrade had mentioned that.” She looked back up at him. “Looking forward to it?” She winced, waiting for him to chastise her for trying to make small talk but he didn’t.

“A few weeks away from London…and Mycroft.” Molly watched as a small smirk formed on his lips. “Headed to New York. Would you want to go?”

“New York? Some day.” She looked down at her hands. “Honestly, I would love to see the Statue of Liberty.” She returned her eyes to Sherlock who was frowning slightly. “I know, touristy.”

“I could do touristy.” He said suddenly. She gaped at him in shock.

“You were asking me to go with you?” She whispered.

“Yes.”

“But why?” She wrinkled her nose. Sherlock blushed deeply and Molly wasn’t sure she had ever seen his face that red.

“For a first date.” He mumbled.

“Two weeks is a really long first date.” She giggled at him. The small smile returned to his face.

“Maybe we can squeeze in a second date too.”


	8. Only for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steffy2016 asked: Sherlolly Prompt! Sherlock keep bashing marriage. Molly is heartbroken she thinks their relationship is going nowhere they break up Sherlock understand why and decide to ask her to marry him in his very awkward Sherlock way :)

“Why do you keep saying those things?” Molly asked as she choked back a sob as she sat down on the couch.

“I simply see no use for marriage.” Sherlock replied from his chair with a shrug. “Mary and John’s relationship has not changed since their nuptials – even despite everything that has happened with them.”

“But it’s a way to show your love and devotion to your partner.” She moved to the edge of the couch, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“I can also show my love for you in other ways.” He sighed. “I think you know how I feel about you and that I am devoted to you and only you.”

“Yes. But Sherlock.” She whispered.

“I don’t know why we are discussing this anymore – I see no point in marriage.” He picked up the newspaper and started scanning for something interesting.

Molly let a silent tear roll down her face. She inhaled slowly and wiped away the tear. She stood up and pulled on her jacket, hoisting her purse over her shoulder.

“Then I see no point in this relationship.” Her voice was soft but strong.

“Molly?” Confusion was written all over his face as he let the newspaper fall to the ground.

“You see no point in marriage. And I, I feel our relationship is going now where.” She walked quickly to the door trying not to lose her nerve. “I’m sorry Sherlock.” She disappeared down the stairs leaving a very confused and stunned Sherlock alone in his flat.

\--

“I don’t understand! How can I not understand?!” Sherlock sat on the edge of his chair at John and Mary’s kitchen table. He kept tapping his fingers in an uneven beat.

“Observe all you want Sherlock, but this has to deal with Molly’s _feelings_.” Mary rolled her eyes at him.

Sherlock looked to John for help.

“Marriage, Sherlock. Molly wants to get married. To you. For what reason she wants to marry you, I have no clue.” John couldn’t believe how thick his best friend could be.

“Molly wants to marry me?” He seemed stunned.

“Yes you big clot!” Mary reached over and smacked his arm. “She loves you. She cares about you. She wants to spend the rest of her life with you.”

“We don’t have to be married to do that.” Mary growled loudly at Sherlock in frustration.

“It’s a bond – a way to signify to others that you are taken.” John placed his hand over Mary’s to calm her a bit before she punched Sherlock’s eye.

“But I – ” Sherlock started but Mary slammed her hands on the table.

“Do you love her?” Sherlock nodded his head. “Do you want to make her happy?” He nodded again. “Would you do anything to make her happy?” He nodded once more. “Then _do_ what will make her happy.” Mary gave him a small encouraging smile.

“Mary’s right and if you truly believe that marriage changes nothing, then why would it be a big deal?” John asked him. Sherlock studied the couple across from him, thinking over their words.

“I think I need a ring.” He said with a small smile.

\--

“Do you need something else?” Molly asked him in a businesslike fashion. She had laid out a body for him and Lestrade. He had finished with the body and Lestrade had already departed for Scotland Yard.

“Here.” He shoved a black box into her hands. She frowned down at it.

“Sherlock, gifts are not going to change – ”

“I don’t see the point of marriage.” He blurted out, causing her to frown even more.

“I know.” She handed the box back to him and left the morgue.

“But you do.” He called as he ran after her. He grabbed her arm and turned her toward him. There were tears in her eyes.

“Sherlock, is there a point to this?” She ran a hand under her eyes trying to stop the tears. He looked at her for a few moments with an unreadable expression. She pulled her arm away from him and started to walk away again.

“A bond!” He shouted anxiously. She kept walking away, simply shaking her head at him. “You’re taken!” She turned to him with a question in her eyes as he babbled on. “And happiness.” He breathed as she finally stopped to wait for the lift.

“You’re not making any sense!” She whispered furiously as other people passed by.

“Just open it.” He almost dropped the box handing it to her again. She pursed her lips and removed the top to the box. She raised her eyebrows as she looked in the box.

“A plastic heart?” She asked pulling it out of the box.

“Atomically correct.” He smiled brightly.

“Why are you giving this to me?” There was a ding and the lift doors opened.

“It is supposed to represent my heart.” Molly frowned as she stepped into the lift. “It’s yours.” Sherlock placed a hand on the lift doors as they tried to close.

“Sherlock, I can’t – ”

“Look inside it.” He bounced excitedly. Molly heaved a sigh and looked down into the superior vena cava and noticed something silver sitting in the right atrium.

“What is it?” She asked as Sherlock pushed open the lift doors again. He took her hands in his and turned the heart over. Molly let out a small gasp as an engagement ring fell into her palm. Sherlock dropped his hands as Molly looked at in him complete shock. “I can’t do this to you.”

Sherlock watched as the doors to the lift shut. He walked backwards until he hit the wall opposite him and slid down to the ground. She was supposed to say yes.

His eyes sprang up as the lift doors opened again. He jumped to his feet as Molly stepped off the lift still holding the heart and ring in her hands. They stood looking at each other in silence

“That was a terrible proposal.” Molly finally said, a small smile resting on her lips.

“Not really my area.” He took the heart out of her hands and placed it in the box. He set the box on the ground and took the ring from Molly. “I may not see the point in marriage, but it means something to you. I want to make you happy and would do anything to make you, and only you, happy.” Molly’s eyes were wheeling up with tears again, but with a smile on her lips as well. “Molly Hooper, will you marry me?”

“That was much better.” She whispered. He wrinkled his nose at her. “Oh, yes! Yes of course I will marry you!” She kissed him hard and then pulled back letting him slip the ring on her finger.

“The things I do for you Molly Hooper.” He smirked as she locked her arms around his neck.

“Shut up and kiss me!”


	9. But You Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from steffy2106: Sherlolly prompt!Molly is pregnant. She goes tell Sherlock but he is bitching about the Watson baby changing lives and why would people ever want that etc… Molly leave upset, Sherlock try to figure what is wrong… he realizes she is pregnant. He goes to comfort her telling her he is happy she tells him that he hates children he admits he does but this one will be different as it’s theirs. Sorry quite long and confused lol.

“Oh. Okay. Wow.” Molly gazed wide eyed at the two pink lines on the little stick in her hand. “Well, okay then.” She threw the stick in the trash and stood up to fix her hair. She smiled at herself in the mirror. “I’m going to be a mom!” She whispered. She took a deep breath and left the bathroom. “Sherlock?” She called as she entered an empty kitchen.

“WHAT? JOHN!” Sherlock’s voice came from the living room. She pushed the two doors open and watched as her husband stomped around. “There is a body in the morgue!…NO!…BUT…JOHN!” He yelled and hung up the phone.

“Something the matter?” Molly said with a hit of sarcasm. Sherlock frowned deeply as her.

“John is  _busy_  at the moment with the  _baby_.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Babies do need to be taken care of.” Molly shrugged a bit.[[MORE]]

“No, not a bit…They suck the life out of you!” Sherlock buttoned his suit jacket. “Come on. Lestrade needs us down at Barts.” He whipped open the door and waited for her to grab her purse and a light jacket. He hurried them down the stairs and slammed the door shut causing the knocker to bounce several times.

Molly stood silently as Sherlock hailed a cab with an internal battle going on.  _Should she tell him now and get it over with or wait until he was calm and in a good mood? Would she be able to keep it to herself all day?_

Sherlock was quiet until they were half way to Barts and he exploded again.

“Why would anyone want to have a child? All they do is ruin things!”

“Sherlock.” Molly’s voice wavered a little. She coughed and tried again. “Sherlock, you are being over dramatic.”

“I AM NOT!” He huffed and crossed his arms. “John can’t do anything because he  _always_  has to be home!”

“John doesn’t see it that way. He loves being at home with his daughter.” Molly tried to put a positive spin on it.

“I don’t understand why anyone would have a child. They take up your time and are a nuisance.” Sherlock looked away from her and out the window. “So much unneeded responsibility. Annoying really.”

Molly bit down on her lip and swallowed the sob that was forming in the back of her throat as they stepped out of the cab.  _How stupid to even think for a second that he might be excited about a child._

“Where’s John?” Lestrade had been waiting in the morgue for them.

“At home!” Sherlock scoffed. “With the  _baby_!”

“Oh!” Lestrade gave a chuckle and Sherlock continued to rant about John.

Molly went about laying out the body without talking. She was mad at Sherlock and wanted him to shut up, only slightly relieved that he had stopped mentioning children. But even more than that, she was afraid of what he was going to say when he found out. It didn’t matter if she told him today or not, because eventually he was going to notice it.

“I’m going to the lab.” Molly wiped away a tear that had managed to escape down her check and hurried out of the morgue.

Sherlock stared at the closed doors.

“What did you say to her?” Lestrade sighed.

“I don’t know.” Sherlock was still gaping at the door.

“What were you talking about on the way over here?” Lestrade rubbed his brow. Sherlock started pacing and mumbling.

“John…baby…who wants…this morning….time…no…yes…she did say….but it can’t….responsibility…defending…child…dramatic…she didn’t…Oh!” Sherlock stopped moving and stood still for a second before rushing out of the morgue and after her.

He opened the door to the lab softly. Molly barely looked at him before returning her attention to her cultures. He walked over to her until he was an arm’s length away, wanting to hold her, but keeping his hands to himself.

“You’re pregnant.” His words caused her to pause for a minute. She pulled off her gloves and looked at him. She nodded once and felt the tears welling up again. “Okay.” He gave her an uneasy smile.

“You’re not happy.” Her tears were now flowing freely and she didn’t bother to try and wipe them away.

“I am. I’m shocked…slightly…unexpected.” He finished and pulled her into his arms letting her tears soak his shirt.

“You hate kids.” She sobbed.

“No.” He rubbed her back.

“Yes you do! You said in the cab that you didn’t know why anyone would want kids and that they are annoying!” She continued to cry into his chest as he rubbed circles on her back.

“I was mad at John. Nothing else.” He pulled her face up to look at him. “I was acting like a five year old.” He smirked at her, getting her to giggle. “There haven’t been any good cases in weeks and this one was barely a five. I’m sorry.” He wiped at her tears and placed a kiss on her nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She tightened her grip around his torso. “Are you really okay with this?”

“Yes. I am.” He kissed the top of her head. “Little parts of you and me…this child is going to be brilliant.” Molly grinned into Sherlock’s shirt and placed a kiss on his chest.


	10. Burning Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt: Idea floating around my brain: Sherlock made a mess in the kitchen and ends up using one of John's sweaters to mop up the mess. John fumes about it and goes out to walk off his anger. When he comes back, Sherlock has cooked him dinner. He never cooks dinner. Non-verbal way to say he is sorry.

“Oh…” Sherlock started muttering under his breath as he watched the solution spread rapidly across the floor. He looked around frantically for something to mop up the mess. The last time he had spilled something on the floor and let it sit too long he had been yelled at by Mrs. Hudson for the chemical burn that was now in the corner of the kitchen.

He grabbed the first thing that looked like a towel to him and started mopping it up. He gave himself a self-satisfied smirk and dumped the soaking towel in the bin as John walked through the door.  

“You’re burning fingers.” John said as nonchalantly as if it were a hello. Sherlock spun on the spot to turn off the burner. He cursed himself again and dumped it all out and started to put away his lab equipment, frustrated by the afternoon’s turn of events.[[MORE]]

John chuckled to himself. He found the consulting detective’s minor frustrations a gleeful point in his day, especially as his day had been a frustrating one at that. The clinic was busy and he had barely had time to piss. He grabbed the newspaper and sat on the couch. As he sat reading he realized there was a rather peculiar smell to the flat.

“Did you spill something again?” He asked as he found an interesting article. Sherlock didn’t answer, only grumbled in response. John turned his attention to the kitchen and watched while Sherlock threw away trash and put away equipment. He frowned when his eyes landed on the kitchen bin.

“Sherlock, is that one of my jumpers?” He asked setting down the newspaper. Sherlock merely shrugged, not paying any attention.  John walked over to the kitchen and pulled the sweater out of the trash. “Sherlock! This is my best sweater!”

“I assumed it was of little importance to you as you left it sitting about haphazardly.” Sherlock gestured his hand to John’s chair.

“Haphazardly?!” John huffed. “Look at this place, it’s covered in your shit! Besides that’s my chair!” John grabbed his jacket and slammed the door to the flat behind him.

Sherlock stood stunned for a moment not sure what to do.

—

John came back an hour later, calm, hungry, and tired. His day at the clinic had left him little room to stay mad at Sherlock for a small mishap. Granted, if Sherlock didn’t start to care about personal boundaries and respect for John’s things, some of the body parts Molly graciously left for him would mysteriously disappear.  

There was a strange heaviness in the air as John climbed the stairs. He inhaled through his nose and let out a long sigh. Sherlock had burnt something again. John was not excited to see what it was, but pushed the door to their flat open. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw dinner laid out on the table and Sherlock sitting down eating already.

Sherlock looked up at John and motioned for him to sit down. John sat down slowly as Sherlock served him some of the pasta and chicken he had made. He looked expectantly at John, waiting for him to try it.

John picked up his fork and took a bite. As soon as the chicken hit is tongue, John had to choke back the urge to spit out the chicken and wash his mouth out. He felt Sherlock’s eyes on him and he swallowed without chewing anymore. He gave Sherlock a tight smile, and took another bite.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as they both only nibbled on their food. John sighed and sat his fork down. He grabbed the glass of water sitting in front of Sherlock and chugged half of it, clearing his throat as he sat it back down.

“Mate, thank you for the apology, but this is bloody awful.”


	11. A Few Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has sneaked into Molly's flat a few times to get a better idea of Molly's past and living habits because he finds it more conclusive than asking. One day Molly brings him to her flat to escape the rain and he starts getting the tea out while she changes. Molly figures it's a deduction but when he starts pulling out plates for biscuits and snacks, she folds her arms and looks at him. "Just how many times have you been in here?" He looks sheepishly down at the plate, embarrassed.

Sherlock had been moping about the lab that day as no new cases had presented themselves to him. Molly had been in out with certain tasks and Sherlock was beginning to get on her nerves. She couldn’t have been happier to see 6 o’clock roll around so she could escape to the quietness of her flat.

“Share a cab?” He asked as he followed her out of the hospital and onto the busy sidewalk.

“No thank you. I’m going to walk.” Molly gave Sherlock a polite smile and turned toward her flat, thankful for the space she was finally getting.[[MORE]]

“Okay.” Sherlock caught up with her and feel into stride alongside her. Molly gritted her teeth, but kept a pleasant smile on her face. “Looks like…it might rain.” He offered as he looked up. Molly frowned at his words – Sherlock was not one for small talk.

“Yes. It probably will.” She finally said. They walked a little further before Sherlock tried again, commenting on the weather from the past few days. Molly stifled a giggle as a response eliciting a frown from Sherlock this time. “I’m sorry Sherlock, but you must be really bored to walk me home and try to come up with small talk.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the sky opened up above them and they were soaked with in seconds. Molly let out a joyful laugh as the rain pounded on her skin. She grabbed Sherlock’s hand and pulled him along behind her towards her flat.

There was still a smile on her face as she shook out her hair as they entered her flat. Sherlock couldn’t help but keep staring at her. She had the joy of a small child as she ran her fingers through her hair and hung up her soaking wet jacket.

“I’ll go grab us some towels.” She slipped out of her shoes and hurried to the bathroom. Sherlock shrugged off the feeling he was getting in the pit of his stomach as he discarded himself of his shoes and went to the kitchen. He grabbed the kettle and started filling it.

“Oh. Thank you.” She smiled as she wiped up the floor around Sherlock’s feet where the water was running off of him. She handed him another towel and he ran it through his hair. “I’m going to go change.”

He started drying his clothes as best he could as he waited for the tea. He tossed the damp towel on the chair and got down two mugs. Molly wandered back into the kitchen wearing a shirt that was three times too big for her and threatened to slip off of her shoulder. Her wet hair was piled on top of her head and was still dripping. She leaned in the doorway and watched him.

“I think I have some biscuits if you would like.” She said, but before she could move, Sherlock was pulling out the snacks and plates and setting them on the table. She folded her arms and gave him an irritated look. “Just how many times have you been in here?” He looked sheepishly down at the plate in his hand, embarrassed.

“Just a few times.” He muttered as he sat down the last plate. The kettle whistled and Sherlock poured them eat a cup, still avoiding making eye contact with Molly.

She shook her head and grabbed a big plate down, filling it with the biscuits and crackers, leaving the small plates unused. She took her cup and the plate into her living room. She sat the plate on the coffee table and settled into the couch, pulling her feet up under her and hugging her knees with her free arm. Sherlock put down a dry towel on the other end of the couch and angled his body towards her slightly.

“Why?” Molly asked as she sipped on her tea. It wasn’t an accusing why, just a simple question, which made Sherlock’s stomach turn more than if she had been mad.

“It’s more conclusive for me to observe than ask to get a better idea about your past and living habits…People leave out details they don’t consider important, but details are the important things.” Sherlock fidgeted with his cup.

“Why would you care to know more about my living habits?” She asked as she leaned forward to pop a biscuit into her mouth. His eyes rounded slightly before putting on an impassive expression again. “Oh come on Sherlock. You know I can tell when you are hiding something. You haven’t been able to manipulate me for a long time.”

“I haven’t wanted to manipulate you for a long time.” He whispered. She furrowed her brow at him. “I…I find it agreeable having friends.” She gave him a half a smile and set her tea on the table, standing up.

“I have a pair of men’s sleep pants that should fit you.” It was Sherlock’s turn to give her a questioning look. “They are more comfortable than women’s.” She shrugged. Sherlock sat his cup down and followed her to the bedroom. She rummaged around in her dresser and found the pair she was looking for. “Here you – ”

He wrapped his right arm around her waist pulling her body against his wet clothes, his free hand was pulling at her hair, and his mouth sucking the breath out of her. She sank her fingers into his hair and let her tongue play with his mouth.

“I’m not sure that’s what friends do.” Molly smirked as they broke apart.  


	12. The Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt: John is cleaning the floors (they sorely needed them) and makes his way to Sherlock's room. He was just going to clean it quickly and get out. That was before he saw his picture sticking out in a stack. He didn't remember that photo being taken. He looks through the stack and they are all of him in various shirts, sweaters or none of the above. Him drinking his tea or... no... Sherlock had pictures of him doing... oh god... was no place in the flat private anymore? (can turn for better or worse)

“Sherlock.” John was sitting in his chair when Sherlock came walking into the flat.

“Ah, John. I was hoping you would be home. I need to talk to you about…” His words failed him when he saw the stack of pictures in John’s hands.

“What are these?” John asked between clenched teeth holding up the stack. Sherlock stared at John for a moment before clearing his throat. He took his jacket off and hung it up before settling in to his chair across from John. John moved to the edge of his seat, his face red from his anger.

“Mycroft and I had our suspicions about you when you first moved in.” Sherlock had left his face void of emotions and was using his tone he used when talking with clients.

“Why?” John’s anger was threatening to break his cool exterior. Sherlock inhaled slowly for a moment before speaking.

“You could put up with me.” He said softly. John had been ready to yell but all of the air had been let out of him. He sat back in his chair and thought for a moment.

“How long did you watch me?” His voice and exterior were much calmer as he talked.

“I only checked up on you for three weeks. You had proved your usefulness by then.” Sherlock nodded encouragingly at John. He liked to remind John that he was useful. John pursed his lips at his flat mate. He hated when Sherlock called him useful, as if his sole purpose on Earth was to be useful to Sherlock.

“I know that all of these photos were not taken in those first three weeks.” John frowned in confusion.

“I had dismissed it from my mind that there was even a camera in your room. I discovered last month that Mycroft was still keeping tabs on you every once in a while. I apprehended these when I was at his office last.” John’s face went white at Sherlock’s words.

“How many people have seen these?!” His calm exterior broke thinking about who all could have seen these. “Shit Sherlock! Is that why Anthea kept giving me sideways looks while she was here last time!?”

“I can only assume you are referring to the picture of you after – ”

“YES THAT ONE!” John took the photos and stomped into the kitchen. He dropped them in the sink and lit them on fire. Without another word to Sherlock he hurried upstairs. Sherlock sat listening from the living room, watching the sink as to not let it burn down the rest of the flat – John would find some way to blame that on Sherlock as well.

John emerged back in the living room looking slightly crazed holding the small figure that had the camera in it. He smashed it on the floor and then stomped on it a few times.

“Feel better?” Sherlock asked with a smug look.

“I swear Sherlock!” John pointed at him shaking his hand slightly. “If there are any other ones up there – ”

“I will have Mycroft’s team come tomorrow and remove the rest.” He said calmly as he watched the first burn out in the sink.

“Right now!” John yelled and Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. “I – I have a date.”

“Third.” It was not a question. John frowned at him and down at the mess on the floor.

“Call Mycroft.” John turned to leave the flat. “And clean this up.” Then disappeared down the stairs wondering why he still put up with the Holmes brothers. 


	13. The Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt: Molly is normally quite good at finding a way to keep her biological urges under control or sated. Recently though, it's stronger than it has been and with Sherlock constantly around, it's not helping her. It wasn't her fault she hadn't had a good round for over six months! Molly finds herself thinking very lewd thoughts about what she'd like to do to the detective and has to leave the room. (Can be taken any way, leading up to smutty is preferred (or smut itself))
> 
> This piece does have smut. Its my first true smut scene.

Molly growled at herself as she woke. She was having another one of those dreams again. She was growing tired of waking up feeling like she was going to combust with a wetness between her legs and needing a way to ease the tightening in her belly.[[MORE]]

She peeled the sheet off of her sweaty body and hurried to the bathroom. She turned the water on as hot as her body could stand it and climbed in, focusing on her dream as her fingers worked her clit.

Her dream was about him. They were always about him. Him, his hands, his tongue, his lips. All over her. The dream was basically the same every time. It may happen in different places, the morgue, Baker Street, her kitchen table, but it always started the same way. Sherlock would come into the room wearing his purple shirt (my how Molly adored that shirt). He would slowly start unbuttoning it and toss it to the ground. She would walk slowly up to him and run her hands over his chest and up into his curls. Sherlock would then pull Molly’s jumper over her head, tossing it to the ground. He would tug out the tie in her hair and let it fan over her shoulders, sending shivers down her spin. They would then make quick work of each other’s pants, kissing and nibbling each other all over. He would grab her by the hips and back her into the wall, or lift her up on the lab counter, or push her down on his couch. He would stroke her a few times and then push himself into her, increasing his speed. Molly never got to finish her dreams. She always woke before she or Sherlock could come.

This morning’s dream had been in the locker room at Barts. She ran through the beginning of the dream quickly, enjoying the image of Sherlock banging her against the clanking lockers. She slowed her mind as Sherlock slipped into her. She worked her fingers faster as she imagined Sherlock moving faster. As her orgasm ripped through her body she turned her head into the stream of water and let the water drowned out her moans.

She finished with the rest of her shower quickly, cursing herself that she couldn’t get a handle on her sex drive. She was usually better than this. She enjoyed sex while in relationships and while single it was not uncommon on a Saturday night for her to be in bed with a dirty book letting her fingers work at her center.

But this was getting unbearable. It had been six months since her last relationship and her growing need for a release had steadily increased over the last three months. She either woke to an ache in her stomach or tossed and turned at night until she scratched the itch.

She blamed Sherlock of course. He had been around more and more lately, being polite and giving her real compliments. He smiled at her and kissed her on the check when he said something that could be taken wrong. She hated the damn man for making her love him.

The rest of her day was uneventful, boring even. She had pushed the morning’s event out of her head and moved on with her day. Until Sherlock came to the lab. The lab work was the last thing she had to do for the day and having the consulting detective there was not going to be helpful.

“Molly, do you mind if I do a few things in here while you work?” Sherlock gave her a small smile, his genuine one, and parts of her dreams started to fly to the front of her mind. She shut them down immediately and cleared her throat.

“Not a problem.” She turned back to her microscope, trying to concentrate. They were quiet as she worked and Sherlock set up the equipment he would be using. She kept watching out of the corner of her eye and almost died when he took off his coat revealing his purple shirt. Sherlock turned to her and she realized that she had gasped at the sight of him. “Sorry, just an unexpected result.” It hadn’t really been a lie. The cultures she was looking at were indeed giving her weird results.

“Do you mind if I take a look?” He asked as he clasped his hands together. She shook her head no and gestured to the microscope. He didn’t bother to wait for her to move, instead he simply leaned into her as he stared down at the culture, his elbows resting on the table.

Molly didn’t think Sherlock had ever been this close to her, at least not his whole body. There were multiple points of contact and she had to fight the urge to reach out and brush his curls. Instead she settled for a deep inhale of his scent. She bit down on her lip as she took another deep breath, letting him fill up her nose. Oh how her dreams would be ten times better with this memory.

“That is interesting.” Sherlock said as he turned to look at her, elbows still resting on the table.

His face was mere inches form hers and his lips were turned up in a smile. She fought with herself to keep her eyes on his eyes instead of his lips. She nodded in response and reached for the culture tray. She removed it from the microscope but her shaking hands dropped it on the floor with a crash.

She pushed away from Sherlock clearing her head as she got the broom. She swept up her mess in a hurry mumbling that she was done for the afternoon and he had the lab to himself. Then she was out the door and practically running to the locker room to grab her things.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” His voice made her jump.

“No.” She lied as she shut her locker and pulled on her jacket. She looked up at him. Oh shit. He was standing in the doorway just as he had been in her dream. That damn purple shirt. She knew her face was turning red. “I, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later Sherlock.”

She took a cab home and sat fidgeting in the back seat trying not to let her mind wander to her dreams. When she got home she ran up the steps that lead to her flat and fumbled with the keys. She slammed the door behind her and threw the lock dropping her stuff on the ground. She tossed her jacket on the couch and started pulling on her trousers as she hurried to her bedroom, her mind filling with images of Sherlock and her memory of his scent.

She had her trousers half way down her thighs when there was a knock at the door. She waited a few seconds and there was a second more urgent knock. She sighed and pulled her trousers back up, taking a few deep breathes to calm down. She pushed her hair out of her face and reprimanded herself for almost giving into her urge again.

She unlocked the door and pulled it open. It was a delivery man. He handed her a package that was from her mother. She thanked him and was ready to close the door when she heard her name.

“Wait!” Molly turned to see Sherlock passing the delivery man on the stairs.

“Sherlock?” She furrowed her brow at him and waited until he was in her flat to close the door. “What are you doing here?” She asked as she put the package down on the table.

He opened his mouth to speak but sat down on the couch instead, wringing his hands. She sat down in the chair opposite him and waited.

“I’m sorry if I have been making you uncomfortable as of late.” Sherlock finally stopped fidgeting and looked at her. Was, was he  _blushing_? He was indeed and Molly felt the pit in her stomach twisting even more.

“No. It’s really more my fault…” She trailed off.

“No…I…can I be honest with you?” He jumped up and started pacing.

“Always.”

“I have been having dreams about you.” She blinked at his words stunned. “I know. It’s bad. But I just keep thinking about you and what those dreams mean. And they are very, erm, nice dreams, but they seem to be affecting our professional relationship.” Molly just kept blinking at him. “In light of that, I would like to explore what they mean…Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“What?!” Molly’s mouth finally caught up with her brain.

“I’m sorry, that was probably too much to reveal.” He went to the door and had his hand on the handle.

“Wait!” Molly jumped out of her chair. “Dinner sounds nice.” She said much quieter. Sherlock dropped his hand from the door handle and turned to her. “Actually, I need to be honest too…I…I have been having dreams about you too.” He blinked at her this time. “Granted, I am pretty sure my dreams are more, involved, than yours.” She felt her face heating up at the thought.

Sherlock thought for a moment and then went back to the couch.

“Mine are mostly us doing things together.”

“Mine too.” She smirked, setting back down in her chair.

“But we eventually end up….kissing.” He blushed at his words. Oh how innocent his mind could be sometimes. “How do yours end?” Molly let a nervous giggle out. “Oh.”

They sat in silence staring at each other.

“I’m sorry.” Were the only two words Molly could think of to say.

Sherlock looked up at her and smirked, a devious look in his eyes. He stood up and reached his hand out to her. She took it and followed him back to her room. He sat on the edge of her bed and she followed suit. He laced his fingers with hers and rubbed her thumb with his, sending shivers down to her toes. He turned to her and leaned in, kissing her lightly on the lips. He sat back and stared a head again.

He let go of her hand and stood up. He took his coat off and laid it on her dresser. Then he took off his shoes and socks and looked at her. She stared back in confusion. He nodded to her shoes and she slipped them off tossing them into the corner of the room.

She stood up and reached out with a shaking hand and undid the buttons on his shirt. She ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders watching as the shirt feel to the ground. Sherlock ran his hands under the bottom of her jumper and he leaned down to kiss her again. Molly looped her arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. She gave it a little tug and Sherlock deepened the kiss, pulling her body against his.

He broke away from her lips and slid his hands up her sides discarding of her jumper. He pulled on the tie that was in her hair and worked it out of her hair slowly, running his fingers through any snarls. The pulling on her scalp sent a spark through Molly’s body and she grabbed at Sherlock’s belt. She pulled the trousers off his legs and down to his feet. He smiled at her eagerness, unbuttoned her trousers, and unzipped them, letting the trousers slip off of her hips. They both kicked their trousers away from their feet and stared at each other’s bodies.

Sherlock reached out and trailed a finger along the top of the cup of her bra. Molly’s fingers itched to run her hands over his body, but she stayed still letting Sherlock touch her. He reached out his other hand and did the same to her other breast. He stepped closer and ran his fingertips down her sides and around her back to trace the pattern on her pants.

Molly placed her hands on his chest and splayed out her fingers. She could feel his heart beating as fast as hers was. She leaned in and kissed him between her hands. She ran her hand up his neck and into his curls, letting them curl around her fingers. He gripped her tighter and pulled her up off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his middle and tightened her arms around his neck.

He moved them on to the bed and Molly dropped down so she was lying underneath him. She ran her hand down his body and rubbed his arousal through his pants. His eyes flickered closed and he moaned, dropping his head to her shoulder. She smiled at the effect she was having on him and pushed his pants off and toed them down his legs. Sherlock kicked his pants off the bed and made quick work of her pants and bra, placing kisses over her shoulders, between her breasts, and on her hips.

Sherlock slipped his fingers between her folds and let out a moan that matched hers at how wet she was for him already. As he circled her clit, teasing her at her entrance, Molly reached over to her drawer grabbing a condom. He slipped his finger inside and she moaned his name. She tore the condom wrapper with her teeth and slowly rolled it down his length as he increased the speed he was moving his fingers.

Molly opened her legs wider and Sherlock settled himself between her knees. He took himself in hand and ran the tip of his cock up and down her center letting her wetness cover the condom. Molly whimpered in anticipation. He stopped stroking her and began to slowly push in, Molly’s eyes widening in pleasure.

As soon as he was fully seated in side, Molly wrapped her left leg around his waist, and Sherlock started to move slowly. It was slightly awkward at first, getting the rhythm right and synching up to each other’s speed, but soon they were moving as two halves of a whole.

Molly knew she was on the edge and Sherlock could see it in her eyes. He increased his speed and tilted his angle of penetration, causing Molly to arch her back. Her eyes fluttered closed and she dug her nails into his shoulder. Her orgasm hit her like a train crash and Sherlock’s name trembled on her lips. He thrust into her a few more times letting her tightening walls push him over. He collapsed on top of her and nuzzled his nose into her hair.

When their breathing had returned to normal Sherlock disposed of the condom and lay back down next to Molly. He rolled on his side, pushed his arm under her neck, and traced his finger over her tummy. After a few minutes she rolled on her side and kissed him lightly. She smiled at him and settled in, staring into his eyes.

“How was…was it….did it….” He searched for the right words.

“How did it compare to my dreams?” He nodded in response. She smiled and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. She leaned down and kissed him hard, her breasts brushing against his chest. He gripped her hips and she could feel him responding to her touch. “I’m glad we skipped dinner.” 


	14. The Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompt: Bodyswap? Either Molly or Sherlock (Which would be cute to see how each would react) or John and Sherlock (Just because).
> 
> (Molly and Sherlock swap)

“Holy – ”

“Shit!”

To anyone who was might have been looking in the window of 221B Baker Street it would look like Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes were having an off morning. Molly Hooper was not one to just show up unannounced anywhere and being that it was 6:30 am, it must have been important. But for Sherlock who was dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie – something only the people who he had worked with undercover had seen him in, he looked true strange to the onlooker. Poor Molly seemed to be having a bad hair day with her ponytail off to the side of her head with several fly aways, granted her clothing choices seemed to have improved. She was wearing black trousers with a matching sweater set that complimented her body shape.

What the onlooker didn’t know was that Molly and Sherlock had not dressed themselves that morning. No, in a fit of worry and panic they had dressed each other.

“Why, why, why! Are we in each other’s bodies?” Molly raised Sherlock’s hand to touch her own face. “And is this really how you sound to yourself?” She asked listening to the deep baritone that was now giving life to her words. She turned away from him and he shut the door.  

“I am unsure.” Sherlock moved uneasily in Molly’s body – it was small and much closer to the ground than he was used to, plus his center of gravity was off with Molly’s added curves. He sat down in his usual chair and felt a pang when it felt much bigger than normal. “Where did you find those clothes?” Sherlock asked as he stared at his body.

“They were in the back of your wardrobe…they were the only thing I felt comfortable wearing.” Molly shrugged and sat on the couch. She tried to fold his legs up under him but found that Sherlock’s legs were too long for what she was used to and gave up, just folding his ankles. Sherlock frowned at the posture she was using with his body. “Besides, it’s not like you have room to talk! What have you done with my hair?” She stood up and went over to him, examining his awful attempt at a ponytail.

“I have never had hair this long. What was I supposed to do with it?” He let out a huff and crossed her arms. Molly shook his head at him. “Do you want to do it?”

“Yes, in fact I do.” Molly eased the tie out of her hair as best she could to not hurt Sherlock. “I can’t believe that the  _World’s only consulting detective_  couldn’t figure out how to do a ponytail.” She mocked him. He frowned at her words.

“It is somewhat disheartening to be mocked with your own voice.”

“It is somewhat disheartening to be reprimanded in your own voice.” She smirked and worked her hair into two braids quickly, only stumbling a few times because of the length of Sherlock fingers. He tried to pull her head away when he realized what she was trying to do but she gripped her hair tighter and Sherlock stopped moving. “Geez Sherlock, sit still!”

“Does it have to be braids?” He wined. Molly frowned as she sat down in John’s chair.

“It that really how  _I sound_?” She ran Sherlock’s hand through his curls and smiled a little.

“I might be in your body but I still have my mind. Can you keep your thoughts about my body to yourself?” Sherlock hated himself the minute the words left her mouth. He watched as she teared up –  _was that really how he looked when he had a momentary lapse with emotions?_  “Molly, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Molly said with a break in his voice. She stood up and walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms tight around his body, calming her slightly.

“Molly.” Her voice came from right behind her.

“This is very confusing Sherlock. I’m…I’m sorry that I enjoyed the feeling of your curls on my hands…your hands…whatever!” Molly threw his arms in the arm and cried. Sherlock reached her hand out and patted Molly on his back, unsure.

“Molly…” She cried harder. “Molly, please, could you stop crying? For some reason your body is having a biological response to it and its making me uncomfortable seeing myself cry.” Molly let out a laugh. She turned around to face Sherlock.

“You really can’t handle emotions can you?” She wiped as his face, clearing the tears away. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t at least…explore before you got dressed this morning.”

“No. I did not.” Sherlock felt the blush creeping up Molly’s face and turned away. He went back to his chair and pouted.

“Lair.” Molly followed after him returning to John’s chair. “I know what my face looks like when I lie.” Sherlock exhaled slowly, trying to compose himself.

“I never knew you had a tattoo.” He said it as if he was hurt.

“It’s not something I shout from the roof top.” She scoffed at him. He blushed again. “What?” Sherlock didn’t say anything. “I told you I know how to read my own face.” He avoided eye contact. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes, what did you do you my body?!”

“Nothing!” He meant it to come out calmly, but instead it was a shriek. He had never made such a high pitched noised before in his life. “I was just being a scientist…exploring new areas of study.”

“ _Exploring new areas of study!_ ” Molly hadn’t meant to be so loud, but Sherlock’s deep baritone made it impossible to be angry and quiet.

“Curiosity got the better of me.” He shrugged her small shoulders. “You can’t tell me you didn’t explore a little.”

“No! I didn’t!” She slammed his hands down on the chair arms. “I wasn’t too thrilled that the first time I held your penis was because I was peeing out of it!” Molly slapped his hand over his mouth and Sherlock let hers gape open. “I need to go.” Molly stood up and rushed to the door, but stopped when she saw Sherlock’s hand on the door instead of hers. “It may look weird if I left, since this is technically my flat.”

“No. The flat belongs to the body you are in. Not you.” Sherlock said in Molly’s small voice.

“With that being said, you should probably g – ” Sherlock stopped Molly’s babbling by pulling his face down to hers and snogging the breath out of her. It was a weird sensation for both of them; their tongues playing with each other’s, sensing what their mouth really felt like to another person.

Molly had envisioned their first kiss to be a bit different. She always hoped that Sherlock would have been the one to make the first move, but she had always pictured herself being the one to plant the kiss on him. But in so many ways, this was exactly how she pictured it. Sherlock had been the one to make the first move, yet it was her lips that planted the kiss on his.

Molly giggled, breaking their kiss. When she opened her eyes she was staring up instead of down. She felt her hair and other body parts just to make sure she was really back to herself, Sherlock doing the same.

“Oh thank God!” Molly sighed in relief.

“Why did you giggle?” Sherlock asked once he was satisfied that he was indeed himself again. “Did I do it wrong?” He whispered, his hands on her shoulders because Molly really hadn’t been sure where to put them.

“No, no!” She reassured him, happy to be looking up into his beautiful eyes instead of down into her brown ones. “I had always pictured that I would be the one to kiss you first, but hoping that you would make the first move when you finally admitted your feelings. In a way, it was both.” She gave him a small smile.

“You imagined our first kiss?” He asked with a smirk.

“No!” She blushed and stepped back away from him. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her body flush against his. “Okay, maybe just a few times.” He threaded his fingers through the braided strands of her hair and leaned his head in close to her ear.

“Me too.” He whispered and then kissed her softly. 


	15. The Sock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt: Story prompt for you! Molly accidentally finds a ring box in Sherlock's sock drawer. (Why she is rummaging through there you can decide!) Molly tries to bring up this life altering revelation to her boyfriend in a nonchalant, non-awkward way.

“All he has to do it put them away!” Molly huffed as she stuffed his clean clothes where they belonged. “I even matched up his damn socks, but heaven forbid he actually put them away himself.”

She pulled on his sock drawer a bit hard, causing it to fly from its spot in the dresser. She sighed and shoved the drawer back into its spot and kneeled down to collect the socks from the floor. She sat back on her heals when she saw a black box sitting amongst the white socks.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” She whispered to herself as she picked up the box. She looked nervously towards the bedroom door, but could still hear Sherlock taking his call from Lestrade in the living room.  She opened the lid and stared down at the ring. It was a simple cut, but the most exquisite diamond she had ever seen. She had never seen anything sparkle so much in a dimly lit room.

Her hands shook a little and she felt herself tearing up. She hadn’t a clue that he had been thinking marriage. Of course she would say yes – there was no doubt about that. And of course Sherlock knew Molly had always dreamed of marrying, but she had no clue that he would want to.

She sat the box on the top of the dresser and hurriedly put away his socks. She stood up and took the ring with her to the kitchen. She sat down at the table, ring in her lap, waiting for Sherlock to finish his conversation with Lestrade. She had been focusing so hard on the napkin holder, trying to hold some composure to her face, that she didn’t even hear Sherlock end his call and come into the kitchen.

“Anything?” She asked as calmly as she could.

“Nothing spectacular.” He sighed and sat down in his chair, scrolling through his emails.  

“Sherlock?” Molly played with the box in her hands.

“Mhm?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I…I borrowed a sock from you.”

“Just a sock, Molly if you needed a full pair you could have…oh.” He finally looked up at her. “Is it a good sock?” He said more softly.

“It seems to be a great sock.” She smiled at him.

“Did you like the cut of the sock?” He asked with eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Does the sock fit you?” He cleared his throat before asking.

“I don’t know.” She sat the box on the table. “I wanted to make sure you were okay with me taking the sock before I tried it on.”

Sherlock gave her the smile he saved for her and reached for the box. He opened the box and looked down at the ring.

“I did have a plan for this weekend. Candle light, dinner, everything you deserved – John and Mary helped of course.” Sherlock added.

“It seems unconventionality just seems to be the way we do things.” She giggled, reaching her hand to him so he could slip the ring on her finger. He frowned at her hand and snapped the box closed. “What?” Molly sat back in her chair with a worried look.

“Don’t worry. You’ll still get it. Just not now.” He stood up and put the box in his pocket.

“Well, when?”

“When I ask you.” He kissed the top of her head as he walked to the bedroom with a smirk on his face.


	16. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weasleygirl928: If you're still doing prompts, Sherlock and Molly go on a double date with John and Mary

“Hi.” Molly gave Mary a sideways hug and hurried around to the other side of the table. “Sorry we’re late. Someone was dragging his heels.” Molly rolled her eyes as Sherlock slumped down in the chair next to her.

“That’s okay.” Mary smiled at her. “But I am glad you’re here. I thought John was going to eat the table cloth.”

“Was not.” He frowned and stared down at the menu. “Do you know what you want?”

“They just got here! Give them a minute!” Mary hit his arm lightly with a laugh.

“No, no! It’s fine. I already know what I want.” Molly smiled at John as he waved the waitress over.

John barely let the waitress get a word out before blurting out his order. Mary and Molly giggled and ordered next.

“What can I get you?” The waitress asked Sherlock.

“Nothing.” He said shortly and glared at the waitress. She didn’t respond to him but just retreated to the kitchen to put their orders in.

“What is wrong with you?” John glared at Sherlock.

“Not hungry.” He said simply and went back to staring at the table.

The three of the looked at each other and shook their heads, knowing what was going on with him.

“Sherlock.” Molly said as she touched his arm.

“Mhm?” He said without looking at her.

“You can’t solve a case you aren’t on while we are on a double date.” Mary rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see

“Mhm…..”

John sighed and kicked Sherlock under the table. Sherlock jumped, cursing under his breath.

“You solve it?” Molly asked bitterly.

“Almost.” Sherlock smirked. 


	17. Are you okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Sherlock can see John is frustrated and can't figure out why. He prods for an answer but nothing seems to be getting the results he needs. Why was John avoiding him? Had he done something wrong? Was it the sweater he burned? The head in the fridge? Oh... he couldn't be still mad about his incident with what was her name... Vanessa? He hadn't meant to insult her and she took it so personally. Sherlock sighed and knocked on John's door. (Bromance)

“What do you want Sherlock?” John sounded exasperated and Sherlock thought about turning around and going back down stairs.

“To talk?” He wrinkled his brow in frustration. He had never been good at this and it didn’t help that the person he turned to for help in this area was irritated with him.

There was a very audibly loud sigh from the other side of the door and a scraping noise as John got out of his chair. He thumped his feet across the floor and opened the door, slamming it against the wall.

“What about?” He crossed his arms and stood in the doorway.

“Did I…was there something…was it…did the…” Sherlock struggled with the words. He closed his eyes thinking what John would say in this moment. “Are you okay?” John’s features softened immediately.

“Sherlock, I’m not in the mood to talk right now.” He said much softer. Sherlock nodded and started to head back down stairs.

“Was it the sweater?” Sherlock stopped and turned back toward John.

“What?” John raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“The sweater I burned? Is that what you’re upset about?” He walked back up to the landing.

“No. This has nothing to do with a sweater.” John crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway.

“The head in the fridge?” Sherlock asked with a knowing nod.

“No, though that was disturbing.” John grimaced at the thought.

“Was it what I said to…Vanessa?” Sherlock squinted as he said her name.

“It was Valerie. And no, we broke up soon after that incident.” John rolled his eyes.

“Well, what did I – ”

“Sherlock! Stop!” John held up his hands. “It was nothing you did.”

“Oh.”

“I just don’t want to discuss it. Okay?”

“Alright.” Sherlock turned on his heel and headed down stairs. John smiled to himself; it was great to see Sherlock expanding his humanity a little. “Oh, by the way John!” Sherlock hollered up the stairs. “If you could be done moping by two, that would be great. We have a case and Lestrade needs us to meet him there.”

“Fine!” John called back down, then stopped, thinking. “Wait a minute! Sherlock, which sweater did you burn!?” 


	18. You Make it Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: Sherlock finds himself unable to stop the whirlwind of his mind and tries to go walk it off and find some way of making sense of things. Unintentionally (though perhaps subconsciously) he ends up at Molly's flat. He doesn't know why, but Molly always manages to help.

His mind had always been a nonstop machine. There were…things that helped calm his thoughts, but after his small stay as Shezza he promised to never touch them again.

It had been okay after his return to London. People were glad to have him back and there were loads of cases. After the news of his return had dissipated, there was John and Mary’s wedding. That had kept his mind satisfied while the planning lasted.

Soon he was on to his next case which had meant committing to his undercover role much more than normal. There were months of planning and scheming all focused around keeping Mary and John safe. But that had been weeks ago. The cases now were mundane and nothing kept his mind satisfied.

It was now well past midnight and the streets of London were quiet. Sherlock wandered without direction and was surprised to look up and see Molly’s flat. He found it even more surprising that her bedroom light was still on.

He thought about turning back and going home when he found himself knocking on Molly’s door. There were soft shuffles on the other side and he quickly determined that he was still awake enough to make it to the end of the street before she opened the door. But while he debated if he wanted to or not, Molly opened the door, causing him to miss his chance to run.

“Sherlock?” She pushed her glasses up on her nose, pulling the blanket around her shoulders tighter. “Are you okay?”

He stared down at her, trying to fight through the emotions that where trying to flood his brain.

“Come in.” She pulled him inside by his elbow. “Take your shoes off – they are covered in mud.”

He did so as she went to make them some tea. He hung his coat up and sat in the middle of the coach. He debated his choice of seat for a moment. He knew Molly had been sitting, more snuggled into, the corner of the couch. It was her favorite spot and was the best place to read when the side table light was the only one on. He really could have sat in one of the chairs or at the other end of the couch, giving her room.

“Here.” She walked back in and handed him a cup. She didn’t think twice before curling back up into the corner of the couch, her knees touching his. He stared down at their knees while she sipped on her tea quietly for a few minutes. “Sherlock?” He looked up meeting her questioning eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It never really stops.” She nodded, understanding what he meant. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” She patted his hand. He reached out with his other hand and held her hand between the two of his.

“It stops when I’m here.” He whispered. Molly frowned down at their hands. “You make it quiet.”  

“Are you ever going to let me in?” Sherlock looked at her, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He raised his top hand to her chin and lifted her gaze up to his.

“Molly.” She leaned over and pressed her lips to his, stopping his words and to his relief the whirlwind that kept blowing in his mind. But it was over all too quick when she sat back taking her hand with her wrapping her arms around her knees. He reached over and took her hand in his again. 


	19. The Sweet Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gaelitabis asked: Hi! Been reading your sherlolly fics. <3 <3 <3 If you're taking prompts, I'd love to read about Molly and Sherlock working to calculate the ideal alcohol intake for stag night. The show just teased us with this scene and I want to hear more about it. Sherlock seems so... subdued. And I can only imagine Molly lovingly teasing him (just think of Vitruvian John!) I guess once Sherlock could relax a bit they both had a nice time together just being fluffy dorks. : )

“Urinating in wardrobes – bad.” She said as she took the piece of paper that Sherlock handed her.

“Mhm.” He agreed. Molly stared down at the Vitruvian John she held in her hand. “Yes, urinating in wardrobes would be bad.” He agreed with her further.

“I am not sure John would really like this picture of himself getting out.” Sherlock gave her a questioning look. “It is a rather revealing picture.”

“Yes, well. It wouldn’t be the first time I caught him in a compromising position.” He said straight faced. Molly smirked and dropped the picture on the table.

“Might be a good idea to leave those out of your speech.” Molly started shifting through the papers that Sherlock had brought.  

“Right.” Sherlock nodded and stored that advice away for later. He took off his coat and scarf, ready to work.

The two worked comfortably together as they calculated the ideal alcohol intake as to remain in the sweet spot for the entire evening. They had barely noticed when everyone else had gone home.

“But Sherlock, as you said you lack the practical experience.” Molly reminded him as she slid herself up on the lab table.

“So?” He said as he filled out a chat he had made for the stag night. He would file the information into his mobile later for easier access.

“John’s tolerance is probably higher than yours.” She poked him in the shoulder.

“True, but John is…tiny.” He raised his hand to his own height and lowered it down to John’s.

“Just because John is smaller than you does not mean he is tiny.” She laughed at his ridiculousness. “Give me your chart.” He handed it over to her. She grabbed it and started to erase what he had just written.

“Molly!” He tried to grab it back but she pushed him away with one arm on his chest and held the paper away from her body with the other. He sighed. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to make sure you don’t get pissed before the end of the night.” He stopped struggling against her hand, but made no step back. “You  _were_ the one who said I like a drink…that I’m a drunk.”

“No, no, no. I never said that.” He grabbed her hand that was still on his chest. “I said you occasionally like a drink and that I lack the practical experience.” He tried to explain rationally. “I would only ever think you are a responsible drinker, Molly.”

“Oh calm down Sherlock!” She pulled her hand out of his with a giggle. “I’m just teasing you!” She put the chart back on the table and finished correcting it. “Here.” She handed the chart back with a smile. “Just follow this and you two should be fine - the sweet spot all night.” She slid off the counter. “Have fun and try not to urinate in your trousers!” She smiled brightly and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you Molly.” Sherlock nodded to her and left the lab with a small smile on his face. 


	20. They're stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock keeps chasing John's dates away and John knows it's not accidental. He's determined to find out why.

 

“Sherlock, we need to talk.” John said sternly as he sat down in his chair. Sherlock sighed and folded the newspaper he had been looking at. “Why do you keep chasing away my dates?”

“I am unsure of what you mean.” Sherlock avoided eye contact and tossed the paper on the ground.

“Yes you do.” John said through clenched teeth. Sherlock merely shrugged. “Why?”

“I don’t understand why you waste your time with silly relationships and sentiment. They are time consuming and a huge waste in the end. As you said, none of your dates have worked out so far.” Sherlock tapped his fingers on the arms of his chair while John’s face became a darker shade of red.

“Sherlock!” He tried to keep his voice even. “You are the reason why none of my dates work out!” His voice came out strained.

“I do nothing.”

“TELL ME!” John shouted. He breathed in and out of his nose a few times, regaining his composure. “Tell me why or Mrs. Hudson will find out what really happened to her flower pots.”

Sherlock let his mouth hang out in shook and then closed it. He cleared his throat and folded his hands in his lap.

“They are stupid.”

“What?”

“They. Are. Stupid.” He said again. John huffed.

“What does that matter to you?” He asked, rubbing his forehead.

“I can’t have my colleague and friend being seen in the presence of such people. It reflects poorly on you and I and the work we do.”

“Oh good lord!” John threw his head back in disbelief. “Sherlock, stay away from dates.” He stood up and pointed at him. “I’m serious. Leave them alone!” He turned for the door, headed for his room.

“Oh, don’t worry John. Since you do insist on embracing sentiment, you are bound to find someone one day that isn’t so terrible.”

“Shut up!” John waved him off as he disappeared.  


	21. Tickles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you taking any prompts? Because I just got the cutest image of sherlock and molly engaging in a tickle war against the other ^^

“Sherlock!” Molly giggled harder. “Sherlock! Stop!” Her sides were aching and she couldn’t breathe. “Sherlock Holmes! You stop tickling me right now!” His hands went still on her sides as he held her against him. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. Sherlock shifted on the couch so Molly was leaning back against him.  

“Who knew you were so ticklish?” He said in amusement.

“You did, actually.” She frowned at him.

“Oh, right.” He smiled. “To be fair though, I had not realized that you were ticklish here.” He ran one finger down the back of her forearm. She jumped slightly at the touch.

“Are you ticklish Sherlock?” She turned her head to look at him.

“No.” He answered too quickly.

“Ahh! So you are!” She turned around in his arms and kneeled between his knees. “Now, where?” Her eyes sparkled as she stared at him.

“You know Molly, I do have an experiment I would love your – ” His words were cut off my a small laugh escaping from his lips as Molly found his most ticklish spot – his feet. “This is why I wear shoes!” He frowned.

“Aww, poor Sherlock.” Molly started tickling his feet again. He kicked at her hands as he tried not to laugh. Molly was sure she had never seen suck pure joy on his face before…besides when doing  _that_.

“Molly, stop it!” He put his feet flat on the couch and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Are you ticklish anywhere else?” His eyes got round as she stared at his ribs. They attacked each other and got tangled up as they laughed and giggled until they were breathless. They both held up their hands in defeat and settled back into the corner of the couch. Molly snuggled her head under Sherlock’s chin and wrapped his arms around her.

“Next time you decide you want to engage in war, please take off your ring.” He wiggled it on her finger. “It does hurt when you stab me with it.”

“Sorry, I’m still not used to it.” She squeezed his hands. 


	22. You Can't Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I just had an idea. What if Sherlock and John know the Doctor, like, they're friends and all. So Sherlock is dead, you know, and John calls him (the Doctor) up and begs him to fix it. To make Sherlock not dead. Go with this where you will. I only have two things to ask of you: 1) There is a happy ending 2) You use the Eleventh Doctor in the story. If you liked this, feel free to run with it. I just had to let someone know, so I was like, "Hey, she's really good. I'll tell her." - - cubepumpkin23

“One more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don’t. Be….Dead. Could you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this.” He left the grave alone. The yard was empty and gloomy and no one was around to hear John Watson’s last words to Sherlock Holmes.

 

John sat still in his chair. He stared at the empty one across from him, _so empty_.

He had thought about not even coming back to the flat; leaving all of his stuff there and starting new somewhere else. But something had pulled him back there. He wasn’t sure what, but when he left the graveside that afternoon he knew he needed to see Baker Street once again. And now that he was there, he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave.

He jumped as he heard a clatter from downstairs and his eyes came to rest on something blue. He jumped up and crossed the room to Sherlock’s desk. Buried under a stack of papers with just the corner sticking out, was the blue mobile they had been given in case of emergencies. John opened it and hit the call button.

“London needs you.”

* * *

 

He had fallen asleep on the couch waiting and was startled awake as the blue box appeared in his living room; the red light from the clock shone that is was 3 am. He heard Christmas music coming from inside the TARDIS and wondered _what_ Christmas The Doctor was celebrating this year.

A man in a top hat and coat jacket stepped out of the TARDIS with a giant sloppy grin on his face. He fixed his bow tie and bobbed around slightly with pent up energy. John couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking at a real life Tigger.

“John!” The man practically yelled.

“Where’s the doctor?” John eyed the man suspiciously as he stood up.

“Hello, that’s me! I’m The Doctor!” He reached out and shook John’s hand. “Haven’t met this face then?” He continued to shake John’s hand vigorously.

“No, not yet.” John was still frowning at him as he pulled his hand back.

“Where’s Sherlock?” The Doctor looked around excitedly. “What does London need now?” His grin started to falter when he noticed the grim expression on John’s face.

“Sherlock is dead.” He said as evenly as he could. The Doctor’s face fell as he looked at John.

“John  -  ”

“You need to fix it.”

“There are fixed points in time.” He tried to explain rationally.

“This isn’t one of those…it can’t be!” John looked exhausted and emotionally drained as he sat back down on the couch.

The Doctor started to mumble to himself as he walked back and forth in front of the TARDIS. He would throw his hands up in the air every once in a while, having a debate with himself.

“Sherlock was important….does he…think!....oh…maybe…yes, but no….It could…I think maybe yes…Alright!” He jumped to a halt grabbing his hat so it wouldn’t fall off his head. He gave John a huge smile and ran back into the TARDIS. “Right back!” He called with a small laugh.

The TARDIS disappeared and John was left alone again. He rubbed his face and thought about how different The Doctor was. He was unsure of how he felt about the goofy personality and the bow tie.

The next morning John woke with a splitting headache and a strange dream that was slipping away. He looked around his small room and started gathering the few things he still wanted. He packed it all away in a few boxes and decided to not return to Baker Street and the emptiness that it held.

He took the boxes down to the cab and had gone back up to the flat to make sure he hadn’t left anything he would need. He stood in the middle of the living room and gave one last look around. He sighed as he frowned down at Sherlock’s chair. He patted it twice before turning and leaving the flat to start his new life without his best mate.

* * *

The TARDIS reappeared in the living room seconds later. The Doctor ran out and wobbled on his tiptoes, threating to lose his balance.

“Just a few things before we start…how connected are you to that jumper?” John looked down at his chest and back up. “Never mind that!” He waved it away. “You need to know that once this is done you won’t remember it.”

“And why would that be?”

“Going back on your own timeline, we could create a paradox.” The Doctor had gone very serious. “I can save Sherlock Holmes, but you won’t remember.”

“But he’ll be alive?”

“Yes.” The Doctor gave a small nod.

“Then it won’t matter. He’ll be here.” John jumped up and headed for the TARDIS.

“No he won’t.” He stared at John sheepishly as he stopped dead in his tracks.

“What do you mean?” John leaned against the police box with a pit in his stomach.

“If we do this, he won’t be here. For two years, you will think he is dead.”

“What?!” John squinted, as if that would make The Doctor’s words clear.

“He will go under cover and you will think he is dead.” The Doctor’s words were soft. John stared at him for a moment.

“Why do you think that would matter?”

“It was Sherlock’s request.”

“What a twat.” John spat and entered the TARDIS.

“Excellent!” The Doctor hurried after John, his grin back on his face.

John gave a look around the TARDIS.

“You, uh…it looks different.”

“Yes! I’ve redecorated!” He started pushing buttons. “Wonderful, yes?”

“No.” The Doctor frowned at John and continued with the button pushing.

“Ready?” John gave one short nod and The Doctor threw the lever. “Geronimo!”

* * *

“Where are we?” John asked as soon as the TARDIS had stopped shaking.

“Outside Barts.” The Doctor threw a few levers and pushed a few buttons before running to the door and yanking it open. “Hello?” The Doctor stuck his head out the door and looked around.

“Doctor.” Sherlock’s voice came from outside and John nearly knocked over The Doctor pushing his way out. He looked the man up and down a few times, not really believing that he was standing there alive and breathing. He took a few deep breaths and clenched his hands into fists down at his sides. “John.” Sherlock stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “I am – ”

John brought his right arm up and punched Sherlock in the nose. He stumbled backwards holding his face.

“Oh!” The Doctor exclaimed as he watched the two men; John holding his hand and Sherlock his nose.

“That – is for the next two years.”  John huffed out. Sherlock reached in his pocket and wiped the small amount of blood away. He sniffed a few times and smirked.

“I suppose I will deserve that at some point.” John smirked at Sherlock and just shook his head.

“Yes! Good!” The Doctor gave a little jump. “Let’s begin.”

* * *

“Well.” The Doctor sighed as the TARIS landed back in the living room of 221B.

“Well.” John sighed in agreement. “Sherlock is alive.”

“Yes.” The Doctor agreed as he messed with a few settings. He looked up and met John’s eyes. “You know I can’t change how it has to be.”

“But…two years. Doctor. That’s a long time.” John tried bargaining with him, but the Doctor simply smiled.

“Two years, my friend, is no time at all.”

“I suppose to someone who has seen all of time and space, it wouldn’t be.” John ran a finger around a control panel.

“You have to go back…and you need to leave this.” The Doctor held up the blue mobile.

“You gave that to us.” John reached for it, but The Doctor pocketed it.

“Can’t have you calling me about Sherlock every other day.” He smiled sadly at John.

“Right.” John nodded and walked to the door. “Thank you Doctor.”

“You’ll be great, Doctor Watson.” He nodded. John nodded back and pushed the door opened and stepped back into the living room.

* * *

 

"One more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don’t. Be….Dead. Could you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this.” As he left the grave alone, the open yard was empty and gloomy, but this time there was someone there to hear John Watson’s last words to Sherlock Holmes. 


	23. Delusional Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt win fill for bakerst-sherlolly: Molly gets moved to 221b because of Fauxriarty scare and catches some sort of flu because it’s winter. She was staying in John’s old room but now because she’s sick Sherlock moves her to his room and watches her like a hawk 24/7. Cue delirious Molly confessing that she still loves him after all he’s done and she’s done, and maybe a certain detective confessing his love for his pathologist too?

“First you come booming into my morgue, scaring me half to death, causing me to drop Mr. Stile’s brain on the ground and now you want me to move to Baker Street. Not asking, but telling me – demanding, that I move to Baker Street with you?!” She yelled at him and crossed her arms, her chest heaving.

Sherlock stared at her blankly for a moment, before waving his hand, dismissing her words.

“Molly, if Moriarty is back, you need to be safe.” He said as he reached down picking up the metal bowl Mr. Stile’s brain had been in. He held it out to her with a smile.

“NO! Just no!” She turned her back on him, ignoring the bowl.

He sighed and sat the bowl on the counter next to her.

“Molly.” He said softly and her shoulders fell. “I am not demanding.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I simply worry about your safety.” She turned to him and dropped her arms. “And the safest place for you is at Baker Street.”

“Fine…I will gather a few of my things and be there tonight.”

“Oh, no need. Your things are already there.”

“What about – ”

“Toby? Yes. I had Mycroft’s men bring him as well.”  Sherlock dug out his mobile. “According to Wiggins he seems to have made quite a home for himself under my bed.” He frowned down at the screen as Molly placed her hand on his arm, allowing her to peer around and take a look at the picture.

“Aww.” She smiled and looked up at Sherlock who was still frowning. “Serves you right for taking my stuff without permission.”

He pursed his lips at her and dropped his mobile back into his pocket.

“I will see you at home.”

* * *

 

“You could have warned me that one of Mycroft’s men was going to be standing guard.” Molly huffed as she burst through the door of 221 B.

“I assumed that was obvious.” Sherlock shrugged as he sat down his violin.

“Well, it wasn’t.” She grumped as she struggled out of her coat and brushed the snow off of her damp hat. “Will this be an everyday occurrence?”

“Yes. Every morning I will escort you to work and every evening one of Mycroft’s men will escort you home.”  

Molly simply sighed and hung up her coat. She turned around and frowned at Sherlock, showing once more her frustration with his plan.

“Would you mind making some tea?” He asked in response as he picked up his violin again.

“Sherlock Holmes, I am even less of your house keeper than Mrs. Hudson is.”

He gaped at her as she stomped her way up stairs to John’s old room.

* * *

 

Molly sat grumpily in Sherlock’s bed, waiting impatiently. She glared at him as he came back into the room with some medicine in his hand.

“Sherlock!” She sneezed. “I don’t ne – ” She sneezed again as Sherlock shoved the medicine into her hand.

“Take this.” He said as he guided her hand to help her take it. She swallowed it and made a face. “For being a doctor, you are a terrible patient.”

“I am not!” She sneezed again. “I just know I can take care of myself.” She said as a shiver ran through her body.

“I’ll get you another blanket.” He smirked and left the room.

“I don’t need to be down here. I don’t even need to be _here_ anymore!” She tossed her arms down on the bed as she yelled at him.

“Molly, you have a fever.” He said simply as he tucked the extra blanket in around her.

“Yes, but Moriarty or Fauxriarty or whatever you want to call it isn’t even back!” She coughed out the last word starting to feel the medicine beginning to take effect already.

“You have a fever – I want to keep an eye on you.” He said taking her temperature. She gave a small giggle as Sherlock took the thermometer back. “What do you find so humorous about a high fever?”

“You _want_ to keep an eye on me?” She tried to give him her best flirty smile, but failed.

“I _need_ to.” He lifted his chin up. “Now,” He began as he repositioned her blankets. “Go to sleep.”

* * *

 

“You know,” Molly turned her head toward Sherlock dramatically. “That medicine tastes awful!” She laughed slightly before turning very serious.

“Yes?” Sherlock asked as he set the newspaper down on the bed between he and Molly. She was still tucked in tight while he sat on top of the blankets, finding the whole flat a little warm for his liking.

“You could get sick.” She practically whispered and then sneezed.

“Most likely not, this is the end of day two.” He said as he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt – it was very warm in the flat.

“Why are you in here?” Her eyes sparkled despite the fever that still had a hold on her body.

Sherlock blinked at her and then shrugged.

“Company.” He looked at his watch and pushed himself to his feet. “Tea.” He said simply and wandered to the kitchen making a slight racket.

Molly fiddled with the edge of her blanket, waiting for her tea.

“Sherlock?” She sang.

“Mhm?” He grunted from the kitchen.

“Why are you – ” She sneezed, interrupting herself.

“Why am I what?” He asked carrying her cup of tea in.

“Why are _you_ being so _nice_?” She asked exasperated. He sighed and put the cup down on the table.

“Because you are sick.” He started to move but she grabbed his hand and pulled him down next to her on the edge of the bed.

“You need to stop being so nice.” She moved a curl out of his face.

“I thought that was what friends did.” He said making a face.

“You’re making it really hard for me!” She wined.

“For what?” He raised his eye brow as Molly intertwined their fingers.

“For me to stop loving you.” She said matter-of-factly. “You’re being so nice and – ” She sneezed and then giggled. “and cute while doing it!”

He opened his mouth and then shut it quickly.

“What?” She asked with a sloppy smile.

“You are still delusional.” He said flatly.

“No I’m not!” She said sternly. “I love you and” She coughed hard. “and you are being adorable.” He sat silently holding her hand for a long time.

“Sleep.” He finally said, standing up.

* * *

 

“Thank you.” She said for the hundredth time. “I really am sorry for all the trouble.”

“Molly.” He warned.

“What?!” She smiled as she set Toby’s carrier by the door. “I am extremely thankful for everything you have done….even if bringing me here was a bit dramatic.”

“I was being cautious.” Sherlock shrugged. He stood up and straightened his shirt. “I – ” She tilted her head to the side, indicating she was listening. “Did you mean what you said?”

“When?” He frowned at her question. “Oh gosh!” She covered her mouth, horrified. “I said something really stupid, didn’t I?”

“You don’t remember?” He ventured.

“What did I say?” He simply shook his head, looking beyond relieved. “Sherlock Holmes, what did I say?!”

He turned away from her and walked to the window. She watched him as he stood still for a few moments. She smiled down at her feet and turned toward the door, knowing she would be better off just leaving now anyways.

“Well whatever it was, please just forget it.” She said over her shoulder as she reached for the door.

“I love you.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned back to him.

“Wh – ”

“That’s what you said.” He turned around and walked over to her. “I love you.”

“Oops.” She whispered as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You didn’t mean it?” He turned away from her and sat in his chair.

“I certainly didn’t mean to say it!” She laughed nervously as her whole face turned red.

“Obviously you didn’t…what with Tom and all, I wouldn’t expect you to still care for me like that.” He nodded. “I shall forget it.”

She blinked at him in confusion and nodded back. She grabbed Toby’s carrier and turned for the door again, but stopped with her hand on the nob.

“What did you mean by ‘Tom and all’?” She plopped Toby’s carrier on the ground.

“You’ve moved on.” He shrugged. “You didn’t mean it.”

“Sherlock Holmes, you are a stupid, stupid man!” She practically stomped across the living room. “How could you think I didn’t mean it?” He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “Why do you think my engagement ended and every pathetic attempt at another relationship has failed?” He didn’t respond. “I meant it!”

His eyes grew wide as he let the realization sink it.

“I have loved you from the day I met you.” She sighed and sank down into John’s old chair. They sat avoiding eye contact for a long time. “Why would it even matter to you?” She finally asked.

A smile grew on his face as he finally brought his eyes up to meet hers.

“I was hoping you still meant it.”

 


	24. Mummy is Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt from bakerst-sherlolly: Sherlock trying to explain to their child that a new sibling is on the way. Said child is not very happy because they can see that Molly is very sick and she can’t do all the fun things she used to be able to do with them before the new baby.

“Mummy!”

Sherlock looked up at the outburst and watched as their son’s eyes lit up when his mother walked into the flat.

“Hi baby.” Molly smiled down tiredly at him.

“Mummy, wanna color with me?” Sammy looked up with expectant eyes from his place on the floor.

“Umm, sure.” Her smile wavered a little. “Let me just go change.”

“Hi.” Sherlock gave his wife a warm smile as she came into the kitchen. He stood up and wrapped her in his arms. “How was your day?”

“Exhausting.” She sighed and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to go change…thank you for .. attempting to make dinner.” She frowned at the strange goop in the pan.

When Molly was done changing she wandered out of the bedroom and sat on the couch behind Sammy.

“Mummy, sit on the floor next to me.” His big eyes begged her.

“I can color from up here.” She nodded down at him. She sat forward and started to doddle with him, but found she could not keep her eyes open and leaned back on the couch.

“Look at my picture!” Sammy lifted his picture, but Molly was already asleep. He frowned and sat his picture down. He got up and hurried into the kitchen. “Daddy can I have a snack?”

“I thought you were coloring.” Sherlock stirred the mixture in the pan, wrinkling his nose at it.

“Mummy fell asleep.” Sam crawled up in one of the kitchen chairs.  

“Oh.”

* * *

 

“What’s wrong with mummy?” Sam wrinkled his nose as Molly emptied the contents of her stomach in the bathroom.

“She’s pregnant and sometimes pregnant women get sick.” Sherlock patted his concerned son’s head.

“She’s sick because of the baby?” 

“Umm…yea.” He responded absentmindedly as he stared at his mobile. “Molly! I have a case! Can you drop Sammy off?”

A muffed yes drifted from the bathroom.

* * *

 

“Look at you!” Mrs. Holmes exclaimed grabbing Molly into a tight embrace.

“I’m just glad that I am unmistakably pregnant now.” She rubbed her rounded belly.

“You look beautiful.” Her father-in-law kissed her cheek.

“Thank you!” She smiled but was immediately pulled away from her in-laws by tiny hands.

“Are you gunna chase the butterflies with me?” Sammy jumped around in excitement.

“No honey, mummy has to take it easy.” She laid her hands on her belly and smiled at him. “Your little sibling wouldn’t like it to much if I ran around like crazy.” Molly nodded once and turned toward the house. Sammy huffed and plopped himself on the ground.

“Come on Sammy, dinner is ready.” Sherlock reached his arms down and picked him up off the ground. Sherlock studied Sammy’s face – he could tell he wasn’t happy. “Are you upset that mummy doesn’t want to chase the butterflies?”

Sammy shook his head no, shocking Sherlock.

“Then what’s wrong?” Sherlock asked as they walked into the house.

“I don’t want a brother or a sister.” He crossed his arms.

“It’s a little late for that.” Sherlock laughed, but stopped upon seeing his son’s face. “Are you mad that mummy can’t do all the things she used to do?” He sat down in the living room, hoping to not cause a scene with the entire family.

“It’s the baby’s fault!” Sammy wined as tears started to fill up his eyes.

“It isn’t anyone’s fault.” He wiped Sammy’s face as the tears started to fall. “You know, when mummy was pregnant with you, she wasn’t able to do everything she could before.”

“I didn’t mean it.” He whispered, looking even sadder.

“You know how you feel after running around chasing butterflies all afternoon?”

Sammy nodded yes.

“I get tired.”

Sherlock smiled at him.

“Being pregnant is a lot like chasing butterflies all days.” Sherlock watched as Sammy thought it over. “Mummy has to give a lot to help the baby grow.”

“She did that for me too?” He asked with wide eyes.

“Yes she did.” Sherlock nodded as he wiped the last of the tears off Sammy’s face.

“Wow.” Was all Sammy said before jumping off of Sherlock’s lap and running for the kitchen.

Sherlock smirked and followed after him. He walked into the kitchen just in time to see Sammy wrapping his little arms around Molly’s neck and telling her he loved her.  


	25. How DID you get in my bed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eyyopatrick and fangirlwithyournumber prompted me with some Uni!lock

She just stood there staring at him with smirk.  

“How _did_ you get in my bed?” He asked sheepishly.

* * *

 

 

“What?” Molly brought her leg down slowly as Sherlock stared at her.

“Oh…nothing.” He coughed and turned away from her. “Want to go again after the turn?”

“Sure.” She smiled sweetly and stepped over to him, grabbing his hands.

John and Mary were huddled in the corner of the studio with their text books balanced on their knees. John was suppressing a laugh in the quiet room.

“What’s so funny?” Mary asked as the music started and Sherlock and Molly started to practice their routine.

“Those two…he just needs to snog her and get on with it.” John shook his head.

* * *

 

“Are you two dooone yeeeet?” John slumped over on his side dramatically.

“Books are how you study, this is how we study.” Molly rolled her eyes at him and continued to twirl around the floor alongside Sherlock.  

“But it’s Friday night and I’m starving!” Mary wined in agreement. “Can’t you study tomorrow?”

Molly sighed and stopped moving – much to Sherlock’s disappointment.

“I do want some pizza.” She went over and turned off the music. “Is that okay?” She asked Sherlock. “I mean, we can practice tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” He smiled at the thought of spending his Saturday with her.

“You can’t practice too early!” John slapped Sherlock on the shoulder as they were packing up their things.

Sherlock frowned down at him.

“You and I have a game to finish from last weekend!”

Sherlock only groaned in response.

“What game?” Mary asked as she looped her arm with John’s.

“It’s not a game!” Sherlock spat as they exited the studio.

“More of a contest.” John laughed loudly.

“You bet on it, didn’t you?” Molly shook her head knowing Sherlock’s addiction to proving John wrong.

“Oh yes!” John shouted in triumph. “When it comes to alcohol, Sherlock is a push over.” He laughed.

“I am not.” Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

“Why didn’t you finish your contest last weekend?” Mary led the way across the park, in the direction of John and Sherlock’s flat.

“Mycroft.” Sherlock said it as if the singular name explained everything.

“He was sent over by _mummy and daddy_ to check on the _wittle Sherlock_.” John punched Sherlock on the shoulder. He didn’t say anything but glared back and rubbed his shoulder.

“Well, I think I shall join your little game.” Molly gave them a mischievous grin.

“This is going to get interesting.” Mary muttered to herself.

* * *

Sherlock dropped his mobile three times before turning off the buzzing noise that was coming from it. He rubbed his aching head and squinted against the bright light. He tried rolling over and bringing the sheet over his eyes but he ran into an object on the other side of his bed.

“Molly?” He whispered sounding a bit horrified.

“Morning.” She smiled warmly and stood up. “I have lunch with my parents at one so if we want to get any rehearsal time in this morning we need to get to the studio soon.” He watched with big eyes as she walked out of his room and then he heard the bathroom door closing.

She had been wearing clothes when she left and he quickly checked to make sure he was at least wearing bottoms – which he was.

He heard the shower start and lay in bed trying hard to remember the night before. They came back to the flat and ate pizza. The other three had coerced him into the drinking contest, but everything started to get really fuzzing after his fourth…John was right – he was a real pushover. 

He heard the water stop and there were voices in the kitchen – Mary must have spent the night as well. He jumped out of bed and stumbled his way to the table.

“Good morning.” John smirked at him.

“How was your evening?” Mary asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

“What happened?” He whispered angrily leaning on the table. 

“You don’t remember?” Mary and John snickered.

“SHH!” He hushed the two, trying to keep Molly from hearing. “No, I don’t!”

“We only know the half of it.” Mary joked.

“You’ll have to ask Molly.” John winked at him and went back to laughing with Mary.

The bathroom door opened and Molly appeared in her practice gear.

“Thanks for letting me borrow the towel.” She tossed it to John. “Sherlock,” He looked at her, his eyes still wide. “Go shower – we need to get going.” She pushed him toward the bathroom. 

* * *

 

“OW!” Molly grumped as she hit the ground hard. Rehearsal wasn’t going so well for the hungover Sherlock. 

“Sorry.” Sherlock huffed and helped her up. She rubbed her hip and frowned at him.

“You really are a push over.” Her frown broke and she laughed at him.

“Molly?” She looked at him with bright eyes. “What happened last night?”

She blinked at him a few times before frowning again.

“Do you usually wake up with girls in your bed?”

Sherlock stared at her for a moment in shock.

“What?!”

“I mean, I know we’re at uni but – ”

“N-no!” He cut her off, stammering. “I don’t – its just – I’m fuzzy – alcohol – ”

“I was joking!” Molly grabbed his flailing arms. “ _Nothing_ like that happened.” She stressed it. He nodded his understanding. “But after a few drinks you may have told John you wanted to impress me.”

“Oh..” He shook his head in disbelief.

“You said you wanted to impress me because you liked me.” A blush crawled up his neck. “We kind of called it quits on the drinking after that…plus Mary and John were getting really cozy.” He nodded his head, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t.  She just stood there staring at him with smirk.  

“How _did_ you get in my bed?” He asked sheepishly.

“I helped you walk to your bedroom and you asked me to stay. So did because I needed a place to sleep that wasn’t covered in pizza and beer…plus you have a very strong hold once you decide to cuddle something.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s actually pretty cute.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but Molly stopped him by kissing his cheek lightly.

“Come on…let’s practice the lift.” She restarted their music.

 

“That was good. Do you want to – ” Molly started but was cut off by Sherlock.

He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips gently to hers.

“I like studying with you.”  


End file.
